Never Got a Chance
by Roselyne
Summary: John Cena saw at TLC the occasion to take his revenge on Wade Barrett and to set loose all of his frustration and anger. But when his uncontrolled rage drifts away, will he be able to face the terrible consequences?
1. Prolog

_Warning: _Before you proceed, just keep in mind that **english is NOT my mother language**. So there will certainly be mistakes in this text. Yet, I'm eager to improve, so if you see some corrections to make, don't hesitate to contact me :-)

_Author's note:_ _I know I have two other WWE fic in progress, "From Nexus With Love" and "In Memory of Wade", and they are not abandonned! This one won't be a long story. But due to some quite bad news I got in the morning, I was quite in a dark mood, and I think I created this one to dig it out. __**Warning**__: it's going to be a pretty __**DARK**__ story. In you're in a fragile mood, don't read._

_Background Music:__ As a music can influence our mood and the way we write, here's the song that was playing while I wrote the synopsis and developped storyline. Dive into the atmosphere of the story with _**Merril Bainbridge - "State of Mind"**.

**·..·**

**·..·..· -•(-•-•-)•-..·..·**

**NEVER GOT A CHANCE**

_**Prolog**_

**·..·..· -•(-•-•-)•-..·..·**

**·..·**

_**December 27th, 2010**_

"I know that you all always saw me as Mr Nice Guy. And I also believed it myself... But I was wrong."

John Cena's voice echoed in the huge room where this Monday night RAW. His fans, the Cenation, didn't know exactly how to react. Some booed him. Some - very rare - tried to applaud, but stopped quickly after they received crossed looks from their fellows. Most of them were stuck in a stunned silence, with a sick feeling in the stomach. A few of them were even crying, in denial.

John Cena should have been in the middle of the ring. He should have celebrated with them his latest victory, making a few jokes, and show some best-of videos on the huge screen above the ramp. But the only thing on the screen now was John Cena, sitting in a dark room they couldn't identify, and wearing his usual purple tee-shirt and cap. He looked tired, _extremely _tired. His eyes looked almost empty, excepted for some guilt and sadness sparkles. He had the same look as when he was trapped into the Nexus group, only worse now.

"I was wrong...", he repeated before looking straight back at the camera. "And I'm sorry I didn't listen to you guys. I'm...". He sighed, looking away. "I'm sorry... "

**·..·**

**·..·..· -•(-•-•-)•-..·..·**

**TO BE CONTINUED.**

**·..·..· -•(-•-•-)•-..·..·**

**·..·**

More to come soon. I gave some date indication, to help you _(well at least, those of you who follow Monday Night RAW)_ figuring out what he might be speaking about.


	2. Ch 1:  Rage

_Warning: _Before you proceed, just keep in mind that **english is NOT my mother language**. So there will certainly be mistakes in this text. Yet, I'm eager to improve, so if you see some corrections to make, don't hesitate to contact me :-)

_Author's note:_ This is _going to be a really __**DARK**__ story. In you're in a fragile mood, don't read._

_Background Music:__ As the atmosphere from a music can influence our mood and the way we write, here's the song that ... well... helped me through this. Dive into the atmosphere of the story with _**Merril Bainbridge - "State of Mind"**.

**·..·**

**·..·..· -•(-•-•-)•-..·..·**

**NEVER GOT A CHANCE**

_**Chapter 1 - **__**Rage**_

**·..·..· -•(-•-•-)•-..·..·**

**·..·**

_**December 19**__**th, 2010**_

_(__'Make him pay!')_

"SHOW MERCY, JOHN! YOU WON! THAT'S ENOUGH!"

John Cena had jumped from the ring with a chair firmly in his hand, his face still red with the physical effort from the fight he had just won, and adrenaline still high in his body. He could hear his fans, but he felt like they were talking to him from another planet. All these last months of humiliation and threshing were floating in front of his eyes like sniggering ghosts as he was striding to the man who had been his worst nightmare for the past six months, and who was now crawling away from the ring, on his knees and hands.

_(__'Make him pay!')_

That voice in the back of his mind. Cena felt he had indeed totally the right for his revenge, and he was going to make sure that Wade Barrett would pay the bill at once, to the latest cent. And eventually with some interest rates. The beating he had given to the younger man on the ring didn't quench his thirst for revenge. Oh, he did receive a few extremely painful hits too, he almost thought at some point that he was going to lose the match. But now, with the upraising rage taking over him, the pain was going away. He was feeling quite good actually.

_(__'Make him PAY!')_

He reached Barrett on the ramp just as the man was trying to get on his feet. Wade hadn't even realised that John was behind him and was totally unprepared for what came next. He couldn't refrain from screaming, both in pain and surprise, when he was smashed with a chair between his shoulder blades, at full speed. He fell on the floor and rolled on aside, in the shape of a ball, his eyes shut tight and his hands holding the back of his neck protectively.

Many in the public applauded the action. But some kept on booing Cena, or yelling him to stop. Cena chose to ignore those voices and saluted his fans with a fierce grin on his face. When he turned towards Barrett, he saw that the man was trying to crawl away again. He pointed at him with his left hand and looked at his fans, the cutthroat smile still on his face. "Is THAT the Nexus' FIERCE LEADER?", he shouted to the public, mocking and humiliating Barrett. "That piece of trembling WASTE OF SKIN?", he finished his sentence by twirling and smashing again at full strength Wade's back. The Englishman's yell almost covered the clutter of the crowd.

Those who were close to the ramp felt a shock from the brutality of the scene in front of them. It didn't give the same impression when it was happening on the white ring. It looked real here. Way too _real_.

Wade tried to crawl away again, but this just seemed to enrage Cena even more. He leant on him and shouted in his ears: "WHERE ARE YOUR TROOPS NOW, HEH? WHERE ARE THEY?". Cena had carefully send each and everyone of the Nexus to the hospital in the past few days. He made a step backwards, but just to have a better momentum. He rose his chair above his head. Most of his fans understood what he was going to do, and if some shouted in delight, most of them screamed for mercy for Barrett. Again this time, Cena didn't listen to them. He smashed his chair down at full speed, the metallic tubes connecting with Wade's back and shoulders.

_('Make him PAY!')_

Many on the public screamed their indignation. Some of those who were the closest to Cena - and wearing his colors - extended their arms to put their hands between him and Barrett, trying to calm down their idol. Cena frowned and stared at them briefly, not understanding, his vision clouded with his rage against the Nexus leader.

"What?", he asked them, frowning a little.

"Have MERCY, John!", a voice told.

"You already won! It's enough", another voice added.

"STOP THIS", a third voice added

"HAVE MERCY!", a fourth voice added.

_(__'Make him PAY!')_

Cena clenched his teeth and stepped away from them. How could they _not_ understand? They had seen what he had been through! They were supposed to be on his side! He spoke briefly to them, but in the general tumult, only the closest ones could hear, the others had to read on his lips. "He gets what he deserves".

He then saw in the corner of his eyes that Wade had crawled away again and was starting with obvious difficulty to get on his feet. Cena made an organic version of _'target acquired'_ and ran to him, raising his chair while his fans were still screaming for mercy.

_(__'Make him PAY!')_

"AND HE DESERVES EVERY-". He smashed with all his strength into Wade's back. The man fell on one knee, screaming in agony. Cena rearmed.

"- SINGLE-". He hit again, the left shoulder blade this time, sending Wade to the floor. The man rolled on his right side, his arms gathered around himself in a futile attempt to reduce the pain. Cena rearmed and smashed again.

"-LAST-". The chair connected with Barrett's ribcage. In Cena's vision clouded with rage, everything seemed to have a red tint. Unless it was one of the spotlights. But he decided he liked what he was seeing.

"-ONE-". Cena smashed on Barrett's shoulder as the latter was retreating towards the black barriers behind which the Cenation - under visible shock - was standing. He rearmed again as Wade was reaching out for the barrier. His hand closed on the top of it when Cena's chair connected with the back of his head.

"- OF THEM - !"

Wade fell forward, but never let go the barrier. Like his very life depended on it. Some of Cena's fans helped him holding on, actually, almost crying for him.

Cena didn't see that. He had turned his back on him, making a victorious pose for his fans on the other side of the ramp. He was feeling a pure joy, a wild and fierce joy like he hadn't felt in years. His eyes were almost shining. There were timid applauds from some of his fans, like even if they were safely behind the barrier, they didn't want to go against their Hero's will. Especially when the savage look on his face was beyond scary. Many of them were still yelling at him to stop. But all of them hoped that it was over now. That his taste for revenge would be satisfied and he would leave Barrett alone. If only the man could stay on the floor and make low profile. They felt their hope destroyed when they saw Wade Barrett struggling to get on his feet again. Cena saw their expression change and turned his head, curious. Then smirked.

"Why stop, when _that_ guy never knows _when_ to stop?", he simply shouted to his fans with a wicked humour expression on his face and a crazy grin on his lips. He rearmed his chair, ignoring again their sudden pleading screams for mercy, and swivelled on himself.

**·..·**

Agony when he was moving. Agony when he was breathing. Agony when he was even trying to _think_. And he had thought that being smashed through six chairs earlier on the ring had been painful? Wade Barrett narrowed his eyes and tried to focus on the end of the ramp, where his salvation was. He felt that his very _life_ depended on it. The place was perhaps fifteen yards away, but in his slow and painful progression, it could have been _miles_. If only he could reach it, even in this crawling disgraceful way...

... he would be safe.

Running to it was out of question. Simply walking was not even an option. Back on the ring, after Cena made his finisher move through the chairs, he had realised with some horror that simply moving his legs was sending terrible jolts of pain in his back. He had laid perfectly still when John Cena pinned him on the matt and the referee counted him up to three. He could have remained on the ring, waiting for the medics. But he had decided it would be safer for him not to remain in Cena's sight after his victory, in case it might give him _ideas_. He had proceeded to crawl away for safety.

Wrong idea.

The man had hunted him down the ramp, and proceeded to give him a serious repetitive beating, making the pain he felt on the ring like a sweet memory. Even when he was curled up in the shape of a ball on the floor, offering no resistance, praying for it to be soon over, Cena kept beating him, insulting him, and screaming things he couldn't even recognize anymore.

One thing he knew: The man truly hated him. And somehow, he felt like he deserved it.

Wade Barrett tried to focus again after the last shock he got on his head but he was feeling nauseous. He could still hear, but the sounds were muffled, as if he was underwater. He wasn't even sure whether or not he was holding the barrier as he barely felt his hand. He opened his eyes, and saw repetitive bright and painful lights flashing quickly before his eyes. He struggled to get on his feet again, in wild panic now.

_'Oh my God... A seizure... I'm having a seiz-'_

Then the pain exploded in the back of his head and his whole world became white.

Wade Barrett never saw the floor coming to greet him.

He never felt the contact of his body hitting the ramp.

**·..·**

John Cena observed as Wade Barrett was struggling to get on his feet, and that very sight caused another ball of pure hatred inside his stomach. All the images from the past flashed before his eyes, as the dark haired man was almost stumbling, but still looked decided to reach the top of the ramp. Cena smirked and turned back towards his fans, behind him, who were still pleading for him to stop.

_(__'Make him PAY!')_

"Why stop when _that_ guy never knows _when_ to stop?", he simply asked before he lifted his chair and swivelled on himself in an almost graceful movement, while letting a scream of pure rage coming out of his lungs and exploding in his throat. That scream ended in a wild roar when he hit full-force Wade in the back of his head, but this time with the edge of the chair, and not the seat as usual.

Despite Cena's roar, many heard the sickening sound. The moment later, Wade's knees gave way and he collapsed ungracefully on the metallic floor of the ramp. Where he remained still, with the exception of some fingers of his right hand, slightly twitching.

Still in full rage, Cena came back to Barrett, and ignoring once more the pleas of his fans for his fallen enemy, he hit him twice again on his back with his chair, even kicking him in the ribs. He was a little bit surprised when he got no reaction from him, but suspected an evil craft from the Nexus leader. He clenched firmly his chair and rose it high above his head.

He heard, from another planet again, the "Stop John! Leave Him! Have Mercy!", but revenge was boiling in his veins, rage was like fire pushing him forward.

_(__'Make him PAY!')_

He got a wicked smile and leant on Barrett, his chair still held above, and about to strike again. John slid his left foot under Wade's right shoulder, giving a impulse to roll the man on his back. "C'mon, Big Guy, I'm not done with y-"

Before he understood clearly the situation, he felt like his stomach was dropping suddenly and a terrible cold taking over him as he was staring into Wade's green eyes. But before he realised what exactly was wrong with them, a scream was heard in the crowd nearby. This is at that precise moment that reality hit John like a seven tons truck and he fell on his knees, refusing to believe what he was seeing.

Wade's eyes were open, but they didn't look at anything. They just stared at the void. His face was completely expressionless and there was a trail of blood coming from his nose. John Cena couldn't stare away from these strange green eyes. He slowly let go off his chair which hits the ramp softly in a metallic sound. Wade didn't flinch, and didn't even blink. John realised the only thing he suddenly wanted was that big man jumping at his throat, to learn that he was just simulating. Anything but the scenario that was coming up in his mind.

The adrenaline seemed to evaporate from his system, and his beloved Rage drifted away, leaving him alone with the cold reality. He shuddered, despite the suffocating heat of the arena.

_'I wanted __to put a term to his actions. I wanted to get my revenge for all the pain and humiliation he put me through. But... not like that'_

He didn't even see the medics, rushing towards them.

_'No, not like that...'_

He was staring at the lying form with an horrified look on his face and gulped with difficulty.

_'I just...'_

John Cena tried to push that last thought away from his mind before it was ever clearly formulated, to no avail as the world seemed to spin around him.

_'__... I just killed Wade Barrett...'_

**·..·**

**·..·..· -•(-•-•-)•-..·..·**

**TO BE CONTINUED.**

**·..·..· -•(-•-•-)•-..·..·**

**·..·**

Thanks for reading so far. The story isn't over yet. But I still strongly advice that you don't proceed if you're in a fragile mood.

**·..·**

Answers to reviews:

- Ninfea Di Luna: Thanks :,) So far, he's still in the hospital but his condition has improved. Will know better tonight after work. Now, still thinking 'poor Cena'? Or feeling sorry for him ?

- Roronoa Minamino: You were right about the date ;-) The end of the TLC match was really shocking. Especially the way Cena behaved towards Barrett. I mean, even his own fans from the Cenation were begging him to stop, while they should - logically - have encouraged him. The next week, I was almost applauding that hypocrite CM Punk for his image destruction of Cena about that fight :)

**·..·**

Thanks you all for your time reading it. :)

::Roselyne::


	3. Ch 2: Denial and Acceptance

_Warning: Before you proceed, just keep in mind that **English is NOT my mother language**. So there will certainly be mistakes in this text. Yet, I'm eager to improve, so if you see some corrections to make, don't hesitate to contact me :-)_

_Warning 2: All ideas about the **WWE personnel management** mentioned in this fic, are purely in a **fiction** purpose, and **do NOT reflect** either John Cena's point of view, or mine._

_Author's note:_ This is _going to be a really __**DARK**__ story. In you're in a fragile mood, don't read._

_Background Music:__ As the atmosphere from a music can influence our mood and the way we write, here's the song that ... well... helped me through this. Dive into the atmosphere of the story with _**12 Stones - "World so Cold'**_._

**·..·**

**·..·..· -•(-•-•-)•-..·..·**

**NEVER GOT A CHANCE**

_**Chapter **__**2 - Denial and Acceptance**_

**·..·..· -•(-•-•-)•-..·..·**

**·..·**

_**December 19th, 2010**_

"John... John, stand up. You've got to move! There might be a riot soon!"

John Cena almost startled when someone he didn't know shook his shoulder stronger, in order to obtain a reaction. He was drifting in and out of consciousness, still on his knees. He blinked and brought his gaze back to Wade Barrett, still lying on the floor, the medics swarming like bees around him. His green eyes were still open, but nothing was in there. His face was expressionless, calm. A face devoid of its usual cruelty and gibes. John then remembered he already saw that expression on his face once in the past. Back when he was with the Nexus. As if sometimes, Wade was lowering the walls he had built around him. At several occasions, Wade had proposed him a truce, an alliance, or even proposed him to join them. When he was with the Nexus, at some points Wade had spoken to him in a calm way, just to turn into his mocking self when the other Nexus were joining them. Wade who pretended he only attacked him because he respected him.

_'Where did I go wrong? I didn't do it, right? I didn't!'_

"John, you must leave, please!". The urging tone of the medic, as well as his strong arm helped him on his feet before he realized. The crowd, which had kept a somehow shocked silence, started to come back to life when they saw their _hero_ standing again. Yet, they didn't have their usual cheer. Some even started to boo him, not knowing what else to do. However, most of the kids remained silent, their mouth agape. In their simple vision of the world, their hero had defeated the villain, and it was good. But somehow, due probably to the stunned silence of their parents, they managed to feel that something was wrong. John felt sorry for them, but didn't dare looking at them. He felt he wouldn't be able to stand what would be in their eyes. He briefly glanced toward the medic by his side, to realized the man was no medic as he first thought, but just a WWE technician, at least if he could trust his badge telling_ "Connor T. - WWE crew". _He lifted his eyes quickly to the tech face to notify he had heard him. He briefly noted icy blue eyes, brown hair and a scar on his forehead. Not a face he knew, but not a big surprise either. There were a few hundreds people working at the WWE, so...

Looking back at the floor, his eyes inadvertently fell on the metallic chair by his side. The very chair he had used to beat Wade to death a few minutes - and an eternity - ago. He clenched his fists. For the first time - but not the last - he wished he could go back in time and control his rage. Then his eyes fell on something on a particular zone of the metallic bars. Something which was not metal at all. By the time he realized that the icky matter giving another reflection to the light, was actually some blood and hair mixed, his stomach contracted violently and he just had the time to put his fist in his mouth. He fell on his knee again, closing his eyes violently.

_'No! I didn't do it! It's a nightmare! I'm going to wake up! I never wanted this!'_

_'You wanted him to pay'_, a low and cold voice started from the back of his mind. He remembered that voice had walked with him a few minutes ago, almost cuddling him, and had pushed his arm to hit again. And again. _'For all the suffering he put you through, you wanted to hurt him. You wanted him to feel the pain. You wanted to destroy him. You wanted to stop him. Flawless Victory.'_

He tried to push away that voice. _'NO!'_

But it was too late, the veil of shock was removed before his eyes and his memory flooded back. He remembered the hatred; more, the rage he felt about Wade Barrett. Rage accumulated by months of pain and humiliation to the point of almost making him snap anytime he heard the low voice and cutting accent of his enemy. To the point of having the tall Brit haunt his nightmares, leaving him more exhausted at dawn than he was before closing his eyes. To the point of day-dreaming he would simply destroy him, piece by piece. To the point of turning Wade Barrett into an obsession perhaps as high as himself had obviously been to Wade.

The TLC match had started on even chance, but quickly Barrett had use his advantage in cunning intelligence and creativity, added to his brutal strength. Cena had started losing the match little by little. But for every painful hit he received from the Brit, his rage increased, like a fire nurtured carefully, chunk after chunk, until it reached such a point that the rage started to turn into pure energy. At that very point, the match had turned tables, and Cena had started taking his revenge on the Brit. But he realized now that that precise point had been his own point of no return. As for every hit he gave to the Nexus leader, the rage wouldn't be consumed, but fed. And not with wood anymore, but with gasoline this time! And the more his Rage increased, the more the fire inside him grew, and the more he wanted to destroy his enemy. And the more the fire inside of him grew, the more he felt good. An never-ending circle. And for every times he heard Barrett's voice screaming in agony, his Rage would just jump one more level. At some point later, he felt like the Rage in him was so powerful that it might rip him into pieces if he ever tried to fight or refrain it. So he had decided to completely give in to it. Starting his crimson dance, keeping on hitting Barrett with everything he had. Even after the Brit had stopped moving.

He wanted to make Barrett suffer. He wanted to break him, piece by piece. He wanted to silence him. He wanted to make sure the Brit wouldn't be able to stand up against him. Ever. He wanted to destroy him. He wanted to make him disappear. He wanted...

... to kill him.

Cena's eyes snapped open as the cold realization hit him. Before his eyes was still the chair with blood and hair on the metallic bars. It was not a nightmare. He had wanted _this_ to happen. From the depth of his soul. But Rage, O treacherous friend, was gone now, leaving him alone with the consequences to assume. Rage and fire gone, his world felt so cold now.

He shuddered and moved his eyes back to Wade Barrett, still lying on the floor with medics around him. Again, he realized his now quiet face expression contrasted greatly with the usual cruelty worn there. Again, some memories of his past in the Nexus flooded back, as he remembered Barrett has not always been cruel and mocking. The Brit had worn that soft expression sometimes. When he believed no one could see him...

_'Oh no! Don't go down that path, or it will be the end of you!'_

However, he wondered who was the man behind the Jackal. An insidious thought that would soon be deep-rooted in his mind.

"John, you really have to stand up", the voice of the tech Connor by his side. "Let me help you".

As he was put back on his feet, Cena's gaze never left Barrett, and he saw that two medics were carefully placing a Minerva around his neck, trying to move his head as slowly and as little as possible. John felt an acid jolt of guilt in his stomach, but he also felt a spark of hope. They wouldn't take so many precautions if he was dead, would they? They would just cover him with a blanket.

This could only mean one thing: Wade was alive. Certainly not in a good shape, but he was alive. And himself was not a murderer. And this world was a happy place under the sunshine. Cena let go of the air he had kept in his lungs for quite some time now.

But as the medics were carefully lifting Wade's body off the floor, just enough to slide a stretcher beneath him, the tech spoke again in Cena's ear: "Keep moving from the Arena, John. Don't ask any question".

These two simple orders made Cena feel suddenly cold inside, and he casted suspicious looks at the medics, at their movement, their face expression, their eyes. What if...

What if Wade was actually dead, but they didn't want the public to panic, and pretended he was still alive? Maybe the WWE officials didn't want another Owen Hart incident. RAW was not supposed to be a snuff show. This would be a bad publicity, not to mention the many psychological follow-ups and financial compensation they would have to do with all the public members who had witnessed the death beating. It would be easier for everybody is Wade just... officially died on his way to the hospital. Or at the hospital itself. Everything but _not _in the arena in front of thousands of people. The WWE had insurances for this kind of incident. Wade's family would never know the truth, and would receive huge compensation. But it would be a financial disaster for the company if they recognized one of their wrestlers had been publicly executed by one of their top wrestlers in a fit of uncontrolled rage.

As Connor pushed him forward, gently but firmly, John got another horrific thought. He was indeed one of the WWE highest superstars. If he was seen as a cold-blooded murdered, the company would lose every investments on him. He shuddered again when he realized they could as well gather all the unused footages they had on Wade Barrett, and edit a 'promo' video where they showed him just thinking about his defeat against Cena, and leaving the WWE. He would just be another villain who the public would quickly forget about, especially if they were fed with a new great storyline. Cena let his imagination run wild for a moment: if Barrett _ever_ managed to have some fans in the whole world - that possibility couldn't be ignored - and that some of them wondered what happened to their dark hero and wanted to investigate, the WWE could maybe come up with the sad news that Wade Barrett had committed suicide a few days after he left the company... as well as another financial compensation for his family.

All of this made sense in Cena's mind. He knew it sounded paranoid. But he also knew what people were capable of when money was involved. Especially when huge amount of money was involved.

An empty plastic bottle of soda hit the side of his head, and took him out of his train of thoughts. He didn't have the time to turn in the direction of the potential sender in the crowd that Connor forced him to duck for cover and pushed him forward, toward the top of the ramp. It was as much to get him into a safe area before other fans got the idea of throwing things at him, as to increase the distance between him and the medics. Better avoid collateral damages.

By the time Cena got to the top of the ramp, half a dozen of projectiles had come to life. None reaching destination though... As he passed the corner, he realized bitterly that - had he not beaten Barrett to death - he would have now passed the top of the ramp, saluting the crowd with his usual warm smile and victory pose.

This too was destroyed.

**·..·**

John Cena was standing in a distance from the ambulance the medics were heading to with the stretcher on which Wade Barrett laid. They had put an oxygen mask on him, but from where he was, he couldn't see if Barrett was _actually_ breathing. This could all be fake, for the camera that followed them and transmitted live in the big screen on the Arena, for the public to be fed with info, and avoid to have them run outside to seek info _on their own_. Some of them would even start to believe the beating had been just part of the storyline. And that's perhaps what the WWE officials wanted them to believe.

The tech Connor was gone, but John had a new companion: one of the many cameramen from the company. John knew that the worry and guilty expression he was wearing now, caught by his appointed camera, was probably displayed from times to times on that big screen, and would be very useful for the storyline. It looked probably real, with enough drama to it. Despite the awful situation, some officials were probably checking the TV audience rate, and were certainly enjoying the increasing number. They were even probably thinking to add this to the next RAW Best-Of DVD, 2010 edition. John clenched his fists. No one had allowed him to approach Wade. Oh, they didn't strictly forbid him, no. But there was always someone walking in between, or talking to him, keeping his attention away. Everything his paranoid mind needed to persuade himself that Wade was dead, and that they just wanted him to ignore it and relax.

But if he couldn't see Wade clearly, he could see his fellow Raw wrestlers gathered in little groups. Especially the look of horror and sadness in their eyes whenever he met their gaze. And while some of them could have come and thank him for getting them rid of the evil Jackal once and for all, they all kept a safe distance. They knew when a fight was fake. And the butchery they had seen on the ramp was all but fake. They all knew that Cena really hurt Barrett beyond the acceptable point. And even if he probably had all the reasons to do so, he was also supposed to control his feelings and reactions. What would become the World Wrestling ENTERTAINMENT if any wrestler could, if pushed enough, snap and wreak havoc? No one would be safe.

Cena gulped with difficulty. His whole world around him was crumbling, but he knew one thing for sure: if the officials had already decided to lie about Barrett's death, they would probably also lie to him as well, so that he would go on working for them, believing that he had just badly hurt another wrestler. It was easier to go on working as a too zealous fighter, then as a murderer. If he ever lost sight of Barrett, he would never know what had truly happened. If he remained here, and let them take Barrett to any hospital, he was sure he would never see him again. And he would never _know_.

Any second counted now, as the medics were putting Wade's stretcher into the ambulance, two medics climbing in with him and closing the doors behind them. He didn't think, but jumped in the middle of a passing group, losing his cameraman on purpose, and started to run as fast as he could. He entered his locker room to catch his bag where his car keys were, and left in less than three seconds. Taking advantage of the general confusion, he managed to reach the exit and the parking lot. He opened the door of his car almost brutally enough to rip it away and switched on the engine before the door was ever closed. Already one ambulance was crossing the main way of the parking lot, heading for the city streets with sirens and lights on.

However Cena waited. He knew that when an incident occurred, whether real of fake for the storyline, there were people, journalists and paparazzi outside, waiting for the ambulance to come out to chase them to the hospitals, to catch some juicy extra news or shocking pictures. It had been the WWE officials idea, after one indiscrete incident, to systematically send several ambulances at once, to lure the vultures into different directions. Cena let another ambulance fly by, all sirens and lights on, and didn't move. But when the third ambulance stepped onto the main way, he recognised the licence plate, and made the tyres of his car screech.

He engaged his car very shortly after the ambulance, barely avoiding the traffic cars which - if they had accepted to let an ambulance pass with some courteous politeness - were now all claws and fangs out with other simple cars. A concert of angry honks saluted his departure from the WWE parking, but he didn't care. All that mattered to John, was to keep an eye on that ambulance. No matter how many highway code offences he would amass tonight.

_'You know __John, Wade told us he would take a few days of holidays after your TLC match in order to clear his mind. But unfortunately, he was found later with an empty bottle of Carisoprodol lying next to him. It's believed that he overdosed on over 90 of the pills. We're sorry. But life moves on.'_

It would perhaps not be _that_ medicine they would mention, but it would globally be the words they would use in order to reassure him. He was sure of it! The WWE would perhaps manage to fool the public, but he wouldn't let them fool _him_. He wanted to know if he was just a wrestler with occasional fits of rage, or a true murderer.

He preferred the cold truth, to the doubt for the rest of his life.

**·..·**

**·..·..· -•(-•-•-)•-..·..·**

**TO BE CONTINUED.**

**·..·..· -•(-•-•-)•-..·..·**

**·..·**

Thanks to all of you who read so far, despite the dark warning on the top of it.

So, do you think Wade survived, or - as John fears - that he is dead and the medics are faking his survival?

**·..·**

**Answers to reviews:**

- **Ninfea Di Luna:** Took me a few seconds to catch that "john the ring bearer" ;-) But nope, the story isn't a way to unwind. The news I got on that Monday did put me in a dark mood. And from that mood, the idea of story emerged - far from the humorous style of "**From Nexus with Love**", or "**In Memory of Wade**" ;-). I wrote the **synopsis** still by being in that dark mood, and developed the story even after things improved. So no, don't worry ;-) This story has nothing personal in it ;)

- **Angel**: Thank you :-)

- **Failed to De-anon**: usually my stories are either dark, or humorous. When I write, I'm more into the "bleeding hearts and drama" type of stories than "Happily Ever After" stories ;-)

- **Nefra**: J'aime l'idée du copain de ta sœur en robe à fleurs. J'étais pliée en lisant ta review ! :D Et des gens assez tarés pour écrire (quoique ce soit qui suive), y a toujours une chance pour me trouver dedans ;-) Quant à si Wade Barrett est mort ou a survécu, il faudra attendre le chapitre prochain ;-) Pour le moment, vous évoluez selon le point de vue de Cena. Donc vous ne découvrirez les choses qu'en même temps que lui (sauf à certains moments quand j'annonce discrètement une pensée ou une action qu'il aura dans le futur ;-) ). Comme ça, je suis sadique? :p

- **Roronoa Minamino:** Thank you very much :))) I'm glad you like this story :)))

**·..·**

Thanks you all for your time reading it. :)

And if you have questions/suggestions/spelling corrections/rotten-tomatoes/etc... Don't hesitate to leave a note ;-)

Hugs :)

::Roselyne::


	4. Ch 3: Memories

_Warning: _Before you proceed, just keep in mind that **English is NOT my mother language**. So there will certainly be mistakes in this text. Yet, I'm eager to improve, so if you see some corrections to make, don't hesitate to contact me :-)

_Author's note:_ This is _going to be a really __**DARK**__ story. In you're in a fragile mood, don't read. This 3rd chapter explores the real beginning of the feud between Barrett and Cena._

_Background Music:__ As the atmosphere from a music can influence our mood and the way we write, here's the song that ... well... helped me through this. Dive into the atmosphere of the story with _**12 Stones - "Crash".**

**·..·**

**·..·..· -•(-•-•-)•-..·..·**

**NEVER GOT A CHANCE**

_**Chapter 3 - Memories**_

**·..·..· -•(-•-•-)•-..·..·**

**·..·**

_**December 19th, 2010**_

After fifteen minutes of high-speed slalom-driving in the city of Houston, Texas, trying not to be left behind by the ambulance, John Cena left the North Loop West and pulled over his car sideways in the Memorial Hermann Northwest Hospital emergency parking lot. He jumped out of his car like a tornado and barely closed it before running towards the ambulance, which doors were already opened. Three medics were swarming from the Hospital entrance to meet the team inside the Ambulance. John reached them as the stretcher wheels connected with the pavement. Wade still laid motionless. The oxygen mask was still on his mouth and nose, but his eyes were now closed.

_'Did he close them by himself, or has someone done that for him?'_, John thought with a shudder about the grim reason why people usually performed that action. He didn't have the time to think any further as one of the resident medic shouted: "WHAT DO WE HAVE HERE?"

Before someone ever replied, Cena felt a spark of hope. Unless they were still faking for some eventual paparazzi, their attitude was professional, and apparently aimed at someone still _alive_.

Three medics were pushing the stretcher inside the hospital while a fourth one was checking on Wade, as the fifth one was giving him the actual lecture: "Thirty year old male. Has been gravely beaten up. Severe head trauma with possible brain injuries and internal stroke. Possible depressed skull fractures in the back on his head. Intracranial haemorrhage. We can't exclude Intraparenchymal haemorrhage. Other injuries on ribs, arms and on the spine. Some were old and covered by make-up. Possible fractures. Pupils are wide. Unresponsive. Signs of seizure. He received 10mg of Valium. Oxygen saturation was low. Had to be put under high pressure O2. Both cardiac rhythm and blood pressure are low, and dropping."

_'... and dropping'_. John Cena who followed just behind understood nothing about their hospital gibberish, except these latest two words: 'and dropping'. He felt a twist in his stomach and like his legs had become lead, but he forced himself to keep on moving. To always keep Barrett in sight while he was still alive. Some large doors slid-opened and the group of medics passed pushing the stretcher. As Cena wanted to fall into steps with them, a latino nurse blocked his way.

"Sorry sir, but you can't go any further". Cena's eyes widened in slight panic. Of course, he could have shoved her aside and passed the door, but there was some authority in his voice that stopped him on the spot. Besides, what good would it make if he was to be thrown outside by a security guard three minutes later? The nurse saw his almost pleading eyes, and glanced behind her. She then turned back to Cena: "You're a relation of that man?".

"Yeah I'm his...". Cena's mouth went dry. What should he say? _Murderer_? Not yet. Barrett was still alive. Obviously dying, but still alive so far. _The guy who beat him into a pulp_? Not a good idea either if he wanted to be allowed near him. He had to give an answer quickly and his mind came up with the most adequate answer due to the situation. "... friend."

When the word was said, John Cena repeated the sentence in his mind and had to prevent his eyes from widening. He had never thought he would ever refer to Wade Barrett as a friend. But he had never thought he would end up beating him to death either! He dropped his eyes to the ground, feeling the shame for his actions earlier, but the nurse misunderstood the previous hesitation and his silence now. She patted a comprehensive hand on his right shoulder. When he lifted his gaze back to her face, he saw there a strange smile, sad but also unease. She also appeared to quickly look him from head to toes, then looked back at him with that strange smile again.

" I understand, it's all right", she said with a voice sounding less steady than what she had probably wanted. "Follow me this way, sir". John frowned, heading to the big doors with her, wondering if she had seen through his lies, and understood which kind of a _friend_ he was for Barrett. He was also surprised - but somehow relieved - that no officials from the WWE was already there. They would probably ordered him to be kicked outside the hospital. And he wouldn't blame them.

But Cena stopped thinking about that as soon as he passed the door and his nostrils were assailed by the strong disinfectant aroma. But it's not the smell that stopped him. Rather the three corridors in front of him, all whites and looking similar, with just blue boards on the ceiling indicating letters and numbers with no specific meaning for him. Wade and the medics were nowhere to be seen. His breath accelerated abruptly, on the verge to panic. The nurse slightly turned to him with a reassuring smile and winked.

"Don't worry. I know where they took your boyfriend. Just follow me."

John froze and was lucky she didn't look back at that moment. At least now he knew what kind of a _friend_ she thought he was for Wade Barrett. He hesitated between an hysterical laugh or a scream of terror, and managed with a huge effort to express none of them.

**·..·**

John was sitting on a bench, in front of the operation room. The red light above the door kept telling him that the surgeons were trying to _undo_ the damages he had done earlier this evening. But would they manage? The more the time passed, the more Cena's anxiety rose. Even if each passing hour would technically make the operation close to the end, it also meant that the operation was really serious. Cena clenched his jaw and hung his head, gazing away from that nightmarish red light. There was another think to also take into account: The surgeons during night shifts were just supposed to do the surgical equivalent of first aid. To make sure the patient would make it through the night before the day team would take its turn. Three hours of _first aid_ told Cena something he always tried to push away: Wade was in a critical state. And if he _ever_ made it through the night, he would probably never be the same again. And his chances grew slimmer with each passing hour.

He lifted his head, feeling a sudden chill, as if someone had opened a window or a door to the outside, and created an airstream. We were in December. Even in Texas, winter winds could sometimes be icy. He glanced around, but couldn't see any opening to the outside. He gathered his arms around him and bent slightly, waiting for the chill to pass. He had left his jacket with his sport bag inside his car but didn't dare leaving the bench to get it. With his luck, the operation would be done by the time he was gone and he'd miss both Barrett and the results. Other thoughts were occupying his mind.

If Wade did survive, himself wouldn't be a murderer, all right. But if Wade was to never compete again, murderer or not, he would have destroyed a life. Wade, that strange brutal man who kept saying that he was attacking him only because he respected him, and who probably wanted his respect in return, but never dared asking for it openly. Cena frowned at the idea of Barrett being shy about something.

Again, the memory of Wade's soft side when he was with him in the Nexus came into his mind, trying to get in the way of any organized thought. Cena sighed. He had time to kill - and not fellow wrestlers - so he decided to accept these memories as they fled in, and examine them.

His first memory of Wade Barrett was from seven months earlier, during his own planned fight against Jericho, back when Barrett was just a rookie at the NXT. Chris Jericho was the one Cena was supposed to fight that evening, but Jericho claimed that he had beaten him so many times in the past, that it would be pointless to do it again. Instead, he had preferred to send his protégé to test himself against Cena, bragging with arrogance about how he had shaped that fighter from a puddle of mud into a worthy wrestler who'd soon become the future of the WWE. Jericho had spoken _a lot_ back then, mostly glorifying himself about his talent as an instructor. Cena had thus unconsciously pictured Wade Barrett as just an extension of that arrogant Chris Jericho, and had brought his animosity onto the youth. From his point of view, he could see the marking of Jericho in the way Barrett stood or walked - if you forgot maybe about some slight spasmodic moves from his right wrist. Jericho's trace was there. The same way a Palpatine would have shaped a young Anakin Skywalker.

He could have realised they were different when Barrett took the mic, and - in opposition to Jericho's verbal diarrhea - only uttered five words with quite a strong accent: "You won't defeat me. Period."

John remembered now the silent youth who had come down the ramp to join him on the ring, with eyes somehow shining. Back then, after all the insults and jeers from Jericho, he had taken that look for defiance and arrogance. But right now, seven months later, he was wondering if it wasn't happiness to face one of the greatest that had pushed Wade Barrett towards the ring that day. Happiness and pride to prove himself against the Great John Cena, and maybe, to get his respect in return.

It was a _'Beat The Clock' _match on that day of May. Cena had five minutes to defeat Barrett. He could have taken his time to observe how the youth fought and to judge of his level. And in any other circumstances, that's what he would have done: new talents were always interesting. But after everything Jericho had proclaimed, his raillery and taunts, all Cena had in mind was to destroy Jericho's pupil as fast as possible, to throw that back to the injurious blond.

So he had attacked the youth as soon as the bell rang, immobilizing him, torturing him, pinning him at every occasions, with everything he had, not leaving him the slightest chance to place a move. And every times he heard Jericho shouting instructions for his protégé, his will to destroy the younger man increased.

But the dark haired youth was stubborn: while everything told him he was going to lose to Cena, he kept resisting and fighting. And at some point, Barrett had managed to pass through his attacks and placed one kick. From that moment, the tables had turned, and Cena had experimented that not only the youth had strength, but speed and agility. And intelligence too. All the qualities usually found in the greatest wrestlers throughout the WWE history.

Back then, had Cena told him that, saying even something as simple as _"you fought well, kiddo"_, many atrocities would have been avoided in the future, and many things would have been different for Barrett. Maybe Wade would have been by his side when he joined RAW. Maybe after his victory at NXT, he wouldn't have felt the obligation to still prove himself. He wouldn't have created the Nexus, and destroy everything at RAW to prove that they existed and that they had potential. Maybe Cena would have even taken Barrett under his wing, much to Jericho's annoyance. Maybe they would have fought side by side.

Maybe they would have been friends.

If only Cena had spoken the right words that day.

But no. Cena was so frustrated about Jericho's refusal to face him, that he had vented his rage on Jericho's protégé, torturing the youth more than necessary in his final STF submission move to the point that "Mr Nice Guy" almost dislodged his opponent's shoulder, broke his back and his ankle and exploded his knee. And even after Barrett tapped out, screaming in utter agony, Cena had held him a few more seconds, even increasing the pressure in the end, briefly glancing towards Jericho. He wanted to make sure that the blond bastard saw the demise of his student, before he finally released him. Cena had rolled on his feet with a huge smirk, without a second look for Barrett, and had started showing off his victory, humiliating Jericho, and ignoring the youth, curled up in the shape of a ball in the middle of the ring.

Cena had actually nothing personal against Barrett - he only saw him as an extension of Jericho - and he had even forgotten about his face and name a week after the incident. But Barrett had a mind on his own. That day, Barrett had probably started loathing him. But even then, Cena could have still saved what was left of Barrett's good side by simply telling him the right words. But no, he just had kicked the youth back into Jericho's trap. Jericho who would more than gladly use that newborn hatred from his protégé into his teaching lessons, nurturing that feeling, and finishing to shape Barrett into his final form.

That day of May had been Cena's first big mistake about Barrett. Probably his biggest.

He hadn't seen the man again after that, until that fateful day of June 7th, where he was in the ring, facing CM Punk and his Straight Edge Society. He was about to deliver a finisher move to CM Punk when his attention had been distracted by somebody standing at the top of the ramp. He had turned to face the newcomer, and didn't recognized directly the tall man dressed in black, simply standing there and looking calmly at him with cold green eyes. He had turned back to CM Punk, attacking him with his "You can't see me" move, before lifting him up on his shoulders with the idea of delivering him his "Attitude Adjustment" finisher move, but a movement in the corner of his eyes stopped him and he simply dropped CM Punk in order to face the ramp.

The newcomer had started to walk down the ramp calmly, and Cena couldn't still place him, until the man made some spasmodic movement with his right wrist, as if he wanted to get rid of some tingling in his hand. Cena twitched: he had already seen someone with that tic. Not so long ago actually. And it suddenly rang a bell in his mind. He had fought some rookie from Jericho a few weeks earlier. What was his name again?

And as the stranger kept on approaching the ring, Cena remembered that he hadn't been able to stare away from these cold green eyes, as if hypnotised. He still couldn't remember Jericho's protégé's name, but he was sure he could remember his eyes. And _these_ eyes were now different. Like something that had once been there was now lost. They also looked _much_ older than a month earlier.

Cena felt unease and tried to break the spell by walking toward the ropes and mouthed a _"Do you want something from me?". _The stranger didn't reply, but kept walking, never moving his cold and determined green eyes away from him. Cena felt a chill running down his spine and repeated: _"What do you want?". _The stranger didn't vary his expression, his eyes still locked on him, and kept advancing calmly towards the ring. With some effort, Cena managed to move away from these hypnotic eyes and asked the referee if he knew anything about this. The referee lifted his arms: he didn't even know the name of the newcomer. Cena drove his eyes back on him. He was almost down the ramp, and didn't show any sign of slowing down. Cena gulped with difficulty. Usually his opponents never hesitated to announce themselves and brag about their talents and capacities. It was somehow reassuring: it always gave you an idea of _what_ you were about to face.

But here, he knew absolutely _nothing_. The stranger didn't look angry, but didn't smile either. He was neutral, and kept a complete silence, added to a huge aura of calm confidence around him. Cena's instinct started screaming, and he felt the first edges of some unknown fear. He crouched into a fighting stance, still unsure of the young man's intention as the latter kept on approaching. At that moment, the stranger's green eyes glanced away from Cena and started quietly at the crowd around. Cena understood afterwards that it had been a signal.

He heard a surprised shout behind him and turned. Some wrestlers, unknown to him, but all wearing the same black and yellow armband, had jumped from the crowd and started attacking the Straight Edge Society. Cena saw that CM Punk was standing on his feet again, and decided to grab the man and throw him outside the ring, into the fray. He soon disappeared under a ruckus of fists, shoulders, and kicks. It was as if he had thrown a beefsteak into a pool of piranhas.

Cena was alone in the middle of the ring, observing the chaos outside de ropes perimeter, not knowing what to do, and not understanding what was happening. Did these guys come to help him? And if so, why? At that very moment, he was puzzled, but not exactly worried. Not yet.

This would change.

He brought his gaze back to the young stranger and saw with some fright that he had reached the ring and was quietly looking up at him. Then the young man looked away and nodded, before grabbing a rope and climbing onto the ring.

Cena realized then that all the members of the Straight Edge Society were down, and that all the newcomers were surrounding the ring, climbing with movements almost identical to the young man's, of whom Cena couldn't remember the name yet. _Perfect mirroring _was the term that came in his mind when he looked around him. They were all standing on the other side of the ropes, staring at him, and waiting. Cena brought back his gaze to his former opponent and suddenly understood as the young man nodded to the others before they all bent at once under the ropes to move inside the ring, circling him. If Cena ever had a chance to pierce an escape outside the ring and into the crowd, it was now gone.

That young man was unquestionably the leader of that group. And this didn't probably bode well for him. After all, Cena had defeated him at "Beat the Clock" the previous month. Could the youth have brought back buddies with him to have his revenge? Back then, Cena couldn't remember the details of that previous match. He had completely forgotten the torture he had inflicted to that man on the ring, just to get a revenge on his mentor Jericho. But today, he doubted that the end would have been different had he remembered and said "I'm sorry". It was probably already too late for that.

As he locked eyes with the young dark haired leader, some understanding passed between them. Both of them knew what was going to happen. Cena passed a hand over his face and discovered without much surprise that it was covered with a cold sweat. He took a deep breath as the eight men inched slowly closer to him, reducing their circle. There was no way to avoid the fight. There was no way out. So he acted out of pure instinct and went for the leader of the pack, leaping to him, impacting his jaw with his right fist. Slightly blinded by the shock, the leader retreated in the corner of the ring. Cena directly followed him there, taking advantage of the surprise effect: the seven other men reacted with one second of delay, one second Cena used to repetitively hit the young leader with everything he had: he knew it wouldn't be long before all the others were on him and he wouldn't be able to hit anyone anymore.

Boy, he had been right about that!

The rest of the fight was blurred in his memory. He had mostly seen it on recorded tapes afterwards in his hospital room.

**·..·**

The cold was still there in this hospital corridor, and Cena pressed his hands on his temples as an horrific thought was invading him, bringing the beginning of a migraine along. Maybe all these horrors, the war against the Nexus, all the people who had been hurt since... Maybe all this time, it had been his fault?

Maybe Barrett hadn't attacked him randomly in June - as he first thought - because he was there when the Nexus decided to come by as they had "seen some lights and thought there was a party". Maybe Barrett had attacked him on purpose. To settle things. Except that Cena had forgotten that there ever was something to settle and had always considered this as a declaration of war, with him as the main victim; and had felt he could counterattack by rights, leading to the escalation of violence everybody witnessed in the following months.

"Oh my God...", Cena whispered. "All this time it was... me?". His words were leaving him, floating as white vapor in the cold air.

It was his Rage against Jericho that had made him hurt Barrett in the first place, and had started this war against the Nexus. And it was his Rage against Barrett that had ended the War, in a gruesome way. There had been many collateral damages in-between.

The first one being Wade Barrett himself.

Cena brought his hands before his face and saw they were trembling slightly. He tried to persuade himself it was because of the cold in this corridor. His Rage - his _uncontrolled _Rage - had caused suffering for almost everybody he knew, and had cost Barrett's life. One way or another, Wade Barrett's life was done.

He looked again as his hands, horrified.

"... What is wrong with me?".

**·..·**

**·..·..· -•(-•-•-)•-..·..·**

**TO BE CONTINUED.**

**·..·..· -•(-•-•-)•-..·..·**

**·..·**

Now you know how the feud started between the two. You can check on the **RAW **episod from **May 3rd 2010**.

More info to come in the future. ;-)

**·..·**

**Reply to reviews:**

First of all, thank you all for your comments or nice words :) I'm glad when I have feedbacks, you really make my day :) Your reviews give me a reason to keep on writing, especially if I have the feeling you like the story :-)

- **Ninfea Di Luna: **J'avais pas vu cet épisode de CSI, tiens :) Pour ce qui est des chaises, quand ils ont des combats en mode TLC, ils savent de base qu'il ne faut pas frapper avec le tranchant, mais avec le plat, du côté tissus/cuir de préférence, et éviter de frapper la tête. Mais bon, emporté par sa rage, Cena a un peu "oublié" toutes les mesures de sécurité.

- **Nefra: **Merci beaucoup pour ton analyse :) Oui, c'est clair que cette fic ne sera pas du tout en mode Bisounours ;) Merci pour la correction ortographique :) Je suis tout de suite allée changer ça ;-) Quant aux événements sombres de ma vie lors de la création de cette fic: je venais d'apprendre le matin même que mon père avait fait un infarctus durant la nuit et était à l'hopital. Bon, depuis il en est sorti hein? ;) Mais ça m'a mis dans une humeur particulière ce matin là et bon... j'ai pondu un synopsis assez sombre qui a donné cette fic ;)

- **KimberAnnBRAND: **Thank you very much :D And if you reviewed this in Science Class, I'm glad it was not a humoristic story ;-) It's less discreet to hide a laugh :p

- **Kraylicious: **Thanks :) Cena's point of view has already started to change about Barrett in this chapter. That change will not operate at once, but progressively. The future will tell where it will lead ;-)

- **Failed to De-anon: **Thank you :) It's clear that Cena's POV is quite dark after what happened.

- **Angel: **Thank you :)

- **Roronoa Minamino: **Thank you :) There will be a parallel at some points between the incident of Wade Barrett and the incident of Owen Hart in future chapters, much to Cena's (quite) paranoid mind. ^^

**·..·**

Thank you for your time reading this chapter :)

I'm already working on the next one, and I hope you'll like it as well ;-)

As already said before: if you have questions/suggestions/spelling corrections/rotten-tomatoes/etc... don't hesitate to leave me a note ;-)

Hugs :)

::Roselyne::


	5. Ch 4: The Right Choice

_Warning: _Before you proceed, just keep in mind that **English is NOT my mother language**. So there will certainly be mistakes in this text. Yet, I'm eager to improve, so if you see some corrections to make, don't hesitate to contact me :-)

_Author's note:_ This 4rth chapter explores John Cena's dark past at the WWE. Something some of you probably forgot or ignored. This chapter was supposed to be longer, but I had to split it into two, so that this update would still arrive in March 2011 ;)

_Background Music:_ As the atmosphere from a music can influence our mood and the way we write, here's the song that was playing in loops while I was writing this: _**Sunshine (soundtrack) - "Kanada's death".**_ (just in case you too want to put yourself in the same atmosphere before reading ;) )

**·..·**

**·..·..· -•(-•-•-)•-..·..·**

**NEVER GOT A CHANCE**

_**Chapter **__**4 - The Right Choice**_

**·..·..· -•(-•-•-)•-..·..·**

**·..·**

_**December **__**20th, 2010**_

John Cena startled on the bench of the Memorial Hermann Northwest Hospital of Houston, Texas. In the cold air around - so much similar to the temperature you'd meet in a mortuary - he had dozed and almost fell asleep. He looked at his watch and saw it was 02:37 in the morning. He lifted his eyes automatically to the lamp over the operation room door. The nightmarish red light was still on, but it didn't mean that the patient in the operation room was still Wade Barrett. Yet, deep inside, Cena knew that he was so tensed that it would have been impossible for the whole surgical crew to leave the room without him to realize.

He saw a movement from the airlock door and blinked. But when he opened his eyes again, he saw that it was not an illusion, the door was _really_ opening. He tried to stand on his feet, but realized his legs had somehow gotten stiff. He was more successful at his second attempt, and made one step towards the two nurses who had just come out of the operation room - one being the Latino nurse he had met earlier when he had arrived here earlier. When she saw him, she made a smile which he found sad and which sent an acid jolt in his stomach. He barely noticed that the blonde nurse near her was staring at him in an almost amused way. The airlock door shut behind the two women, and nobody seemed to follow them.

"How...". John realized his voice was dry, and cleared it before trying again: "How is he?"

"The operation is not finished yet". The Latino nurse tried to smile in a reassuring way, noting his weary eyes, but John could see in her eyes that Barrett's situation was all but reassuring, and he shuddered involuntarily. "But you shouldn't worry", the nurse quickly added, noting his reaction. "Dr Perry is the best surgeon we have in the Night Shift. Your boyfriend is in very good hands". This time Cena noted the amused smile of the blonde nurse.

He nodded with a smile and whispered a "thanks" to the Latino nurse, realizing two things simultaneously. One, it was a good thing that none of his fellow wrestlers or employers was present when this _'boyfriend'_ thing was mentioned, otherwise their shocked expression would have ruined everything. Two, regarding his reputation with the hospital personnel, he had just crossed a bridge. He hadn't burned it behind him. Not yet, anyway. But he wouldn't be able to go back to the other side without a lot of explanations.

The two nurses left him and went probably back to whatever they were doing before. He didn't need to look at them to know that the blonde was sometimes casting some curious looks over her shoulder. He drove his attention back to the red light above the door and thought how it looked like the "on the air" red light above TV or Radio studios. Tonight in our show, the surgeon Perry will try to save a man who had been beaten to death with a chair. Stay tuned to see if he will succeed.

But would people ever care if Wade Barrett survived or not? John thought for a moment of how the crowd used to greet each and every of the dark leader's appearances. Especially since he had subdued the leader of the Cenation into his lair. Cena was sure there would be more than a fan who would be glad if Barrett didn't make it through the night.

_('Show Mercy, John!')_

But there would also be more than a fan who would blame him, and turn their back on him, disappointed. Firstly those who had pleaded him for Barrett's life a few hours - and a century - ago, when he had made mincemeat out of the Brit with a chair, keeping on hitting him even after his screams had stopped and the younger man had become completely still. The bone breaking sound flew back in his mind and he covered his ears with his hands. To no avail. Back when he had hit Wade in the skull with the edge of the chair, there had been that horrifying noise. Everybody had understood the situation. Everybody but him.

_'If only...'_

John lowered his hands in front of his face and looked, almost imagining blood on them. He shut his eyes tight. His heart was beating hard again. With horror, he realized that part of him was still delighted at the memory of what had happened, as if his _beloved_ Rage wasn't totally gone, but had just hid in a corner inside of his mind, playing peek-a-boo and shouting "you can't see me". The other part of him just wanted to run, screaming like mad until he had no voice left. If only he had listened to his fans' pleas for Barrett, if only he had not preferred the cuddling and coaxing voice of the Rage inside him, he wouldn't be now waiting in a freezing hospital corridor, wondering if he was a murderer or not.

If Barrett died tonight, the WWE universe wouldn't probably see the leader of the Cenation on the ring again for a _long_ while. With a sick feeling in his stomach, Cena knew that Vince's lawyers would try anything to bring the WWE prime marketing asset back on the ring as soon as possible, probably claiming a temporary madness due to weeks of psychological warfare and physical abuses. They would in all probability force him to go through months of anger management therapy. He was under contract with them, and wouldn't be _allowed_ to politely decline. It wouldn't be the first time he had badly hurt a fellow wrestler out of a fit of rage. _Killing_ a fellow wrestler would be a premiere, though. But the WWE would make sure that the kids would still follow him and ask Santa Claus for action figures and other merchandising about him. They would make sure that the whole WWE universe would forgive him, charging Barrett instead. The fact that he hadn't actually died on the arena would just made things easier for the WWE. Not much would have to be done to have the fans blame the Brit, and make them say he only got what he deserved: The leader of the Nexus was an easy target, like it was tattooed "please hate me" on his forehead.

John clenched his fists and lowered his head, as his mind was suddenly flooded with what happened on that Monday 14th of June, a week after he had been literally destroyed to pieces by the NXT rookies' first ever invasion of RAW. Wade Barrett was alone in the middle of the ring, a mic in his hand, but saying nothing and remaining still as the crowd was chanting _"you suck"_ in loops. He remained there, drinking their hatred, taking the temperature of the crowd, probably measuring the degree of hostility in order to forestall any direct and physical threat to him. But globally, he didn't seem at all impressed. Just eventually annoyed, and waiting for the volume of the crowd to decrease slightly enough so that he could start talking, and be able to even hear himself.

He might have felt some opportunity at some point, as he took a deep breath, licked his lips and rose the microphone. "For those of you who don't know me, my name is Wade Barrett."

This was the first time Wade ever spoke to the RAW crowd, but just the sound of his voice, and his strange and heavy accent made the crowd react at once. They had apparently identified something else to hate about the guy who attacked their hero a week earlier: his 'funny accent'. The guy didn't sound American, he certainly was not from God Blessed USA, so he was unquestionably an enemy. Of course, as most of the crowd members had probably never left their hometown in their whole life, they didn't know that there was a whole world of people outside, who "talked funny" as well. They probably didn't even know that there were people speaking _foreign_ languages. On the world map, they were the type of people most likely writing "Here Be Dragons" on any country other than USA... _given_ that they could locate USA correctly, of course.

"I am the season one winner of NXT", Barrett had continued, generating more boos. He waited for a few more seconds to reach an acceptable decibel level before going on. " And the reason why I'm in this ring right now, is because the General Manager of Raw earlier today demanded that I...", he had marked a pause - back then Cena had believed that it was because it cost him too much to pronounce the next words - "... come here and apologize for my actions last week". The crowd had too perceived the pause and booed him for what they thought was hypocrisy. Right now, Cena wondered if that hesitation hadn't just come from a stage-fright.

John Cena remembered he had been observing the whole scene on the screen in his own personal locker room. He was asked to stay there for safety, in case the NXT rookies would go after him again, only to leave just before he had to make an appearance in the arena. Back then, John had smiled at the crowd reaction. Their huge amount of positive energy could be of a real support when he was fighting in the middle of the ring, as he was their hero, their favorite. But he also knew, from a dark past of his, back when he was the WWF _Bad Guy_, that when several thousands of people decided to boo you at once, the amount of negative energy you received could be draining, exhausting. During this past week, he had spent his time investigated on his new enemy, and had discovered that wherever he went, Wade Barrett had a special talent to be hated. And what best than a former heel to recognize the signs of another new one?

But then, Cena had noticed something. Almost like a tic. Wade Barrett kept licking his lips before he spoke, as if they were drying extremely fast. Was he having stage fright? Maybe he was used to be booed by 250 people while at FCW, but being booed by thousands of people at once, was probably something else!

Cena remembered he had then felt a spark of pity for Barrett, quickly drown by the memories that the man was his complete opposite. That someone who would strive only for money, power and dominance, was really not his type of personality. He deserved what was happening to him in the middle of the ring.

However, right now, Cena was realizing something: _Complete Opposite?_ Who had he tried to fool? He and Barrett had A LOT in common actually. Back then, he had refused to acknowledge that Barrett reminded him of when he was young and bent on ruthless aggressions. Except that he had just been a wild dog, while Barrett had come with a pack of wolves.

Cena opened his eyes and stared at the white wall facing him, slightly red from the nightmarish lamp on top of the surgery door. In front of him, as if he was watching a movie, he could see how himself had been fighting back in 2002 and 2003, his brutality and his moves; and he was superimposing that with Wade's recent techniques and attitude when he was in a one-on-one match. He stopped breathing when he realized that they were _identical_. Maybe his brain was deceiving him with altered memories, but the more he thought of it, the more it became evident. They had _a lot_ in common. Was Wade Barrett supposed to become the new John Cena, given a few years? John chuckled at the irony of that thought, until he realized that when himself had been a heel, he had _never_ apologized for his actions, and had _never_ offered a truce or an alliance to his enemies. Barrett had done plenty of that. Come to think of it, Barrett had been _pretty cool_ compared to him when he had been the WWF bad guy.

Cena then realized something else: since he had entered the Nexus, Barrett never harmed him, never touched him more than occasional friendly pats or comforting arms around his shoulders. Most of the times, when the Brit spoke to him outside of the ring, his voice may have been firm, even mocking when the other Nexus members were there, but he never yelled at him like he usually did with the other Nexus. Or like he used to yell at him when both of them were on or around the ring. While his words to the other Nexus members were always brief and commanding, his tone was usually patient with Cena. As if he was taking into account that Cena was new in their team and needed time to adjust. Something that had probably drove jealousy into the hearts of his new mates from the golden and black army. And when the two of them were alone, unless himself was in a fighting mood, Barrett would always speak to him in a quiet and nice way, most of the time with a sweet and friendly smile.

Cena's mind froze. Was that what Barrett had wanted? Them becoming friends? No, he shook his head, Barrett had made it clear what he wanted: to become the new WWE champion and become the leading power of RAW. While alliances could always be useful at anytime, friendship was certainly not part of his plans.

_'Then why was he always defending you when the other Nexus members were bullying you?'_, a voice in the back of his mind kept asking.

_'Because I was _his_ toy, and he didn't like to share with the other kids?'_, he replied mentally, with a sad chuckle.

_'Then, if you were _his_ toy, why did he let you go when you simply asked?'._

_'I didn't _simply asked_'_, John replied mentally, figuring he was starting to become like Randy Orton who always pretended he heard voices in his head. Probably whispering _'breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, etc...'_.

He hadn't just _simply asked_ Wade Barrett something like _"Sir, I've got to pee, can I _leave _the Nexus, please?"_. He had joined the Nexus leader while the younger man was alone in the locker room, and had _simply broke nervously_, saying he couldn't take it any longer, that it was eating him alive, and preferred quitting his job and the WWE, than staying with the Nexus. And what had the _evil Wade Barrett_ done? He had put comforting hands on his shoulders and tried to dissuade him from doing probably the worst mistake of his life. He had promised John he would find a way out for him. And he had kept his words. In a cruel way, a Wade-Barrett-credible way that everybody could believe in. But a way out anyway.

John Cena smiled bitterly. Barrett had given him a choice. A very simple choice actually. Free of the Nexus, or fired from the WWE. But John had to make things complicated again, and while Barrett offered him a paved way out, he had felt like that choosing freedom would be the equivalent of selling his soul to the Devil. He had thought that Barrett had cornered him and pressured him, until he had no other choice than to accept the deal.

Now he realized that for once, Barrett hadn't pushed him. He had given him Free Will. It wasn't because of Wade that he had been fired from the WWE. It was because of his own bad choice.

_'__In a near future, the Nexus will be nothing but a distant memory to you. All you have to do tonight, is the Right Thing, the Right Choice'_. He could still hear Wade's quiet voice before the match. Wade had been wrong. Terribly wrong. And both had suffered as a result.

And tonight also, no one had pushed his hand either _(except perhaps his beloved Rage)_. It was because of his own bad choice that Barrett was now lying half dead in a cold operation room. Whatever the results, both of them would suffer again. You don't spend hours on an operation table for a massive brain injury and expect to be able to climb back on the ring the next day. You don't beat a man to the brink of death, and expect to be able to look at yourself in a mirror the next day.

Cena passed his hand on his face, feeling the cold sweat on his skin as he was thinking of those previous awful choices of his. After the ill result of his first bad choice, John had blamed Barrett for his WWE lay-off, and had loathed him like he had never hated someone else in his entire life. He had then started the ruthless aggressions he was so good at, first on each Nexus members, then finally on Wade Barrett. And now as he was remembering, the way he had hunt down Barrett a few hours ago, and beat him with a chair, over and over, kicking him sometimes in the ribs, in order to bring some variation, enjoying every single agonizing scream of his opponent, drinking from his pain... It was as if the _John Cena _who had fallen asleep seven years ago, had finally woken up and hungrily demanded his share of violence and blood. With interests.

That's perhaps why some of his fans had turned against him and tried to protect Barrett. Maybe they unconsciously felt the change operating inside of him and instinctively didn't like it. Those reactive ones were probably people who could remember him from 2002 and 2003. And the reason why others had been petrified instead of cheering him up, was that perhaps that they hadn't been there seven years ago, and thus didn't recognize the heel suddenly in front of them now. Cena's eyes widened. How long had he be walking on the dark path? How long since he had started loosening the leash on that wild rabid dog inside of him? When had he started this heel-turn? Was he totally Heel right now, or was there still something to save inside of him? If Barrett died tonight, would there still be a chance for him to return to the Face he used to be for the past seven years?

"It is going to be permanent."

That voice made Cena jump on his bench and he almost yelped, feeling on the verge of a heart attack, thinking with some sick humor that he was in the best place for this kind of incident. So focused he was on the past, he hadn't realised someone was with him in this cold corridor. He gazed slightly on the left and saw, leaning on the opposite wall, a tall young man dressed in jeans with a grey tank, with dark mid-long hair, a scar on his forehead and clear eyes staring in front of him at the left end of the bench on which John was sit. John drifted his eyes away from the young man who oddly seemed familiar, but saw no one else sitting with him on the bench. He frowned and brought back his gaze to the young man, only to realize with a chill that the corridor was totally empty. Cena rubbed his eyes, but when he opened them again, he was still facing the empty hospital surgery corridor.

_'What was that?'_, his eyes became wide. _'An hallucination?'_

John knew that there was no way the man could have run away out of his sight during the short amount of time he had glanced away. Was he so stressed and exhausted that he started imagining things? Then he realized why the man seemed so familiar. These clear eyes reminding him of the ice forming on running water, the scar on his forehead... He had seen these earlier tonight. The tech who had urged him to leave Barrett's side on the ramp while the medics were checking on the unconscious man. The tech who had protected him from the projectiles thrown at him by his (probably former) fans. Connor, or something like that. Cena frowned. Why in his exhaustion, if he had to start hallucinating, why would his brain choose to remember a mere tech? His mind was surely not following a logical path any longer.

But the memory of Connor and the ramp where he had seen him for the first time, brought another memory to John: Wade slightly leaning to him with a soft and reassuring smile, telling him "I'll find a way out for you", quickly replaced by Wade laying lifelessly on the floor of the ramp, blood covering his face, and his empty green eyes staring at him.

_'All you have to do tonight... is the Right Thing... the Right Choice...'_

John put his right fist in his mouth to try and suppress an anguished wail.

He had really ruined everything.

**·..·**

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**TO BE CONTINUED.**

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Some of you perhaps ignored it, but Cena had been quite an aggressive heel at his debut with WWE (WWF, Smackdown division back then ;) ). At some moments actually, when he gets really mad at someone, you can see glimpses of what he used to be in 2002 and 2003. He really has a problem dealing with his rage, sometimes ^^

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**Reply to reviews:**

I'm glad that more and more of you seem to like this story :) Every times I get a feedback, it really makes my day ^_^ Thank you :)

Apparently, many of you had guessed that the latino nurse thought wrongly that Cena and Wade were a couple ;) Aah, the power of silences and hesitations in a conversation! ;-)

- **Angel:** Thank you very much :) I hope you liked this chapter as well ;)

- **Failed to De-anon:** Thanks a lot :) Yeah, Cena is just at the beginning of his highway to hell, guilty mode, especially if he's going to have a complete look at his past with Barrett and the Nexus. Some points were already mentionned here. More details and angst in chapters to come. If you like the big kick in the teeth for Cena, stay tuned for next chapterS ;-)

- **Nefra:** Et oui :) Il a de trèèèès beaux yeux ;) Les anciennes blessures sont **maquillées** par les maquilleuses avant les enregistrements où les matchs sur le ring. Sauf quand cela suit un précédent combat (comme les plaies de CM Punk à sa jambe après l'Elimination Chamber), ou que c'est impossible à complètement masquer (comme Wade ou Heath Slater parfois avec leurs yeux au beurre noir). Oui, la **confusion** sur _"c'est qui qui a commencé à taper?"_ de Cena par rapport au "Beat the Clock" va être réutilisée dans d'autres fics ;) C'est un des points clefs du début de cette feud. Comme quoi, la communication entre les gens, tout ça... ;) Pour ta remarque sur **Randy Orton** qui entend des voix, je l'ai réutilisée dans ce chapitre, à la sauce foutage-de-gueule, bien sur ;-) (rhaaaa, l'habitude des dessins parodiques sur deviantart... ;-) ). Cena qui ramène tout à lui, c'est un peu sa perception stressée de la situation, mais il est clair que Barrett avait centré énormément sur lui, faisant de lui la pièce maitresse de son jeu d'échec dans le but d'obtenir la ceinture de champion de la WWE. Donc, Cena n'est pas (totalement) paranoïaque ;) De plus, Barrett l'aime bien à la base, mais disons qu'il a des problèmes pour se faire comprendre, et agit comme un enfant qui va foutre le souk pour se faire remarquer et capter l'attention ;-)

- **Ninféa Di Luna:** Ne t'inquiète pas. Le changement va se faire progressivement, mais un jour toi aussi, tu te réveilleras le matin et te rendra compte que tu es devenue une JADER ;-) Mais à partir du moment où Wade et John ont fait un peu ce que Viggo Mortensen et Orlando Bloom ont fait pendant les tournages et interviews sur LOTR, ça peut grandement prêter à confusion. Exemple: l'épisode de RAW du **1er Novembre 2010**, avec Wade qui à un moment dit à John **"... and when you've done all that, you can _scrub my back_"**. Vu le ton sur lequel Wade a dit ça, tous les Jaders ont fait un bond de deux mètres, au moins ;)

- **Reiahnna**: Thank you :)

- **Roronoa Minamino:** I try to stay as close to the real story as I can. It makes the fanfic somehow interactive as you can go and watch again old moments of RAW. Nostalgia Power strikes again ;-) It allows also to develop some points of the story or psychological approaches that are not shown on the Monday and Saturday shows, as it's supposed to be about wrestling mostly (and commercial breaks), and not about group therapy.  
_"Hello, my name is John Cena, and I got beaten down - again - by the Nexus"._  
_"Helloooo, John Cenaaaaa"_ ;-)

- **Team-Nexus**: Hey! There you are! :D Thanks a lot ;-) If you like the actual sad tone of the story, then don't go too far from here. More angst to come ;-)

**·..·**

Thank you for your time reading this chapter :)

After a night stand, I'm now going to sleep. Now just thank Wade Barrett _(no, really!)_, thanks to who I posted this chapter online BEFORE I went to sleep. A long story of tweets about military hours in USA and driving on the right side of the road, waking me up completely just as I was about to catch some sleep. ;-)

Hugs and read you soon :)

::Roselyne::  
_(Twitter: Roselyne777_)


	6. Ch 5: Dangerous Games

_Warning: _Before you proceed, just keep in mind that **English is NOT my mother language**. So there will certainly be mistakes in this text. Yet, I'm eager to improve, so if you see some corrections to make, don't hesitate to contact me :-)

_Author's note:_ I told on the 1st of April that I was working on this chapter 5. And nobody believed me as they thought it was just an April Fool ;-) Too bad... ;-) _( but I must say that the two other April fools I announced online trapped everybody :))) )_

_Background Music:_ As the atmosphere from a music can influence our mood and the way we write, here's the song that was playing in loops while I was writing this: **Puddle of Mud - **_**"Blurry**__**" **_and** 12 Stones -**_** "Lie to Me"& "Broken road"**_ (just in case you too want to put yourself in the same atmosphere before reading ;) )

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**NEVER GOT A CHANCE**

_**Chapter 5 -**__** Dangerous Games**_

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**Houston Texas, December 20th 2010****, 03:07 am**

With the exception of rare nurses passing by, the Hospital corridor was mostly silent again, and still cold. John Cena was not exactly wearing the appropriate clothes for the season, still in his ring outfit, a jean short and his legendary purple and yellow tee-shirt. He looked around again to see if there was some windows opened to the outside world, or for any heater he could turn on a little. He wasn't a medical expert, but he was sure that such a cold wouldn't do any good for any awaiting patients. Yet, as he cast another look around, he saw that this area of the hospital was totally empty. He found it somehow strange that there was not at least one or two patients, lying in their rolling bed, wailing in pain, and waiting for the magical spell some heavenly sent surgeons would cast upon their tormented bodies, to lift up all the suffering. To some, it would be less of a waste of time and money to send a letter to Santa Claus and ask for a new organ, a new life, a new chance. It was said that if you didn't count the emergency room, or the maternity ward, one out of every three patients admitted in any hospital in North America, wouldn't make it through the night.

The image of Wade Barrett lying lifelessly on the ramp beneath him chose that very appropriate moment to come and haunt his already exhausted mind. In his wildest dreams, it was something John had wished to see coming true one day. The end of the Nexus leader. In his raging fantasies, he had explored in total impunity the many possibilities to reach his goal. Stabbing the man with a long blade in a remake of the shower sequence in the movie "Psycho", after Barrett had instructed him that he could "scrub his back" once he was done cleaning the Nexus locker room, had been in #3 position in his mental Top 50. Snapping Barrett's neck with an extreme STF had been his #2 choice. And his all-time favorite fantasy had been choking him to death with an Open Window move; the advantage of that technique being that the death would be slow enough for him to enjoy every struggles from his enemy, weakening with the passing seconds, until the youth would be completely still. Actually, beating Barrett to death with a chair or a ladder had only been #47 in his list. There go odds...

But now, John Cena closed his eyes tightly. His stomach was fluttering lightly just below his Adam's apple, and he was suddenly sure he was going to throw up. He was just starting to realize how far his sanity had been shattered in the past few months. This cold hospital bench seemed to be worth any psychologist couch, finally. And cheaper. No bell ringing right in the middle of your sentence, ending with the Shrink telling you _"Time's up! See you next week. We shall explore your childhood and see if you had father issues "_.

Back on the ramp, earlier that evening, John had almost totally lost contact with the reality. Unable - or refusing - to hear his fans pleas for Barrett's life, he had focused on destroying the dark haired youth. The rest, the world, the future, didn't matter to him any longer. And Barrett's agonizing screams had been like a sweet melody to his ears while he was conducting the _orchestra_ with a chair instead of a stick.

Cena realized suddenly that he was unconsciously smirking at the memory and that his heartbeat was fast again. He shuddered and took a deep breath, horrified. He had really lost his mind in the arena. He didn't know yet what had brought him back to the shores of Reality. Was it the inertia of Wade's body when he had rolled him on his back with one of his feet? Was is the blood of his face? Or rather, was it those vacant green eyes from which the usual cruelty was gone?

But another image flew in his mind. Not the cruel and calculating green eyes he was so used to, but the bright, cheerful and respectful green eyes Wade Barrett had cast towards him before their "beat the clock" match, back in May 2010. A month before the war against the Nexus started. The eyes of someone who knew he had the chance of a lifetime to face one of the strongest, and to prove himself. But back then, all Cena had seen was an extension, a mere surrogate of the man he really wanted to fight that evening: Chris Jericho. Wade was nothing but a pawn, even an obstacle between him and his real opponent. Cena had believed that maybe, if he was quick and brutal to eliminate that dark haired youth, his blond master would deign joining him in the ring, for a real fight to start.

Right now, John started to suspect this whole thing had been part of Jericho's plans to be able to put his new weapon easier against the leader of the Cenation later. Chris knew him well enough to know which buttons to press in order to obtain a total raging Cena. And once he was sure that the leader of the Cenation was done to a turn, he had withdrawn and thrown his young pupil into the ring instead. And Wade Barrett probably never saw it coming. He had walked towards John Cena in total trust and respect, never suspecting that he was just a lamb sent to the slaughterhouse.

John's throat tightened. The look in Wade's eyes as he was walking towards the ring, once you removed the kayfabe challenging look, there was what he usually saw into the eyes of the Cenation. The way his fans looked up at him. The fact that Wade Barrett had probably been part of the Cenation before he became its greatest enemy would have been ludicrous, if it wasn't so terribly sad.

Even after the "beat the clock" fight, had Cena extended a hand to Barrett to help him back on his feet, maybe there would never have been a Nexus group to begin with. Maybe Wade would have remained in the Cenation, fighting by John's side, perhaps even sometimes wearing a purple shirt... instead of having Cena absorbed into the Nexus group and wearing a black and yellow shirt.

Just because he freaking couldn't tell him "you fought well, kiddo" on that ring of May! One sentence that would have change the History, but his bloody pride had sealed their fate - and the content of their wardrobe - in another way. He mentally kicked himself.

_'__You fought well, kiddo'._ Just four words, and Barrett would never have stood in the ring, alone, in this 14th of June, saying things like "the General Manager of RAW earlier today demanded that I come here and apologize for my actions last week". Cena could still hear the negativity in the crowd reaction. Wade had waited a few more seconds before he had started again, in a cooperative way.

"So, what I'm gonna do right now, I'm gonna invite down the rest of the NXT athletes, so we can do this properly". He lifted his head slightly up and raised his hand, calling up. "Gentlemen!". Then he looked straight again, still quite. The only trace of nervousness that Cena could observe on the TV screen from his locker room was that he was still licking his lips from times to times, observing the crowd around him, checking for the arrival of the rest of his team and - Cena only realized it now - checking if they were _safe_ as they had to walk through a crowd which didn't exactly welcome them as buddies. The NXT aggressors came out of the public and climbed over the barriers, followed by a concerto of boos. They gathered around the ring, until Barrett gave them the signal to climb up. At that very moment, the commentators decided it would be safer for them to leave, the aggression of the previous week still very fresh in their memory.

For awhile, the NXT members gathered around their leader and he clasped a few encouraging pats on shoulders for each of them. Now that they were in the center of the attention, and had to _'behave correctly'_, they looked quite nervous. Barrett motioned them in line, to face the public. He walked to the first one, a quite tall man with pinkish skin complexion, red hair and girly features.

"Heath Slater, please apologize", was all Barrett told him before handing him the microphone. At least now the whole WWE universe knew his name. But in contradiction to his soft appearance, Slater got a malevolent grin on his face before he replied with a low voice and a strange slow accent.

"Absolutely not!". The crowd was silent for a brief moment, surprised, as if they had expected him to be the nice bloke of the group. But a second later, they had all recovered, and started to boo him loudly. From his locker room, Cena had observed Barrett's reaction, expecting to see the same evil smirk on his face. But no, Barrett's face expression had frozen on the spot. As if he had a "what the fuck?" written on his forehead, while trying to stay completely neutral. Hundreds of thoughts seemed to jostle behind his clear eyes as Slater went on, grinning even wider: "I would do it again in a heartbeat!"

The crowd had booed him even more. Barrett had licked his lips again, out of probable nervousness, and had looked at his feet for a second, before taking a deep breath and moving to the second in line, a brown haired model with quite spiky haircut and tanned skin. Barrett didn't look towards him but still straight ahead as he spoke: "Justin Gabriel, please apologize."

Gabriel lent on the microphone. "NEVER!". He had almost spat the word, his eyes looked like they were burning. "I still have Goosebumps from what we did last week."

Barrett got a thin smile, his lips only a mere line, and his eyebrow arched. Cena couldn't guessed if he agreed with Gabriel, or if the idea that his team members were digging their own tombs, and that there was nothing he could do about it, was slowly climbing in his mind. He walked with a heavier pace to the third in line, a bald wrestler with bulging eyes and who looked a bit like a lunatic.

"Skip Sheffield, apologize!". Cena noted that there was no _'please'_ anymore.

"No apologies", Sheffield snorted in a disgusting way, "No regret".

Barrett hung his head in defeat, probably singing mentally to the Dignity and Class entities the famous Beatles song: _'Na na naaaa naaa. Na na naaaa naaa. Heeey Heeeey! Goooodbyyyye!'._ He arched his eyebrows and casted a hopeless look to the moonstruck on his left before walking to the next one with a sigh.

"Michael Tarver are you feeling apologetic?". Barrett added a movement of his hand to the question, as if he was starting to be seriously pissed off. Cena noted that it was not an order or a request any longer, but a question. Just perhaps to enquire if there might still be a reason for him to make a fool out of himself in the middle of the ring, surrounded by people who obviously didn't want to cooperate.

The man he was now addressing to, Tarver, was a African American wrestler, who had covered his mouth and nose with a kind of a large black scarf. As how the responses had evolved since the first one in the line, Cena had almost expected that fifth one to simply answer Barrett's question by just rising his middle finger. But once the man removed his scarf, he became quite poetic compared to the four previous ones.

"The look of fear on everyone's eyes last week, that was the sweetest of all of my dreams. Why would I apologize...", he breathed in, his tone becoming harder and more threatening,"... when there's no one in the WWE WHO CAN MAKE ME?".

It was a challenge thrown to every wrestlers in the whole company. And as the crowd replied impishly, Barrett simply walked to the sixth one, while looking at his own feet, in apparent complete defeat. He rose his head just as he reached the man who strangely looked like a black John Cena, with just too much of paste jewelleries and tinsel to fit with the rookie group rough style. But Barrett looked like he didn't care any longer, and just slightly sighed before he spoke.

"Darren Young, you are part of this group, and by definition a voice equal to all others. And while I sadly acknowledge that heralds the coming of the Apocalypse, I do value your opinion on that matter in particular".

Young was staring at Barrett with his mouth agape. And when he spoke, his voice sounded surprisingly quite girlish. "Whoa! You speak like Shakespeare. Yo!"

Barrett's eyes became vacant, and he sighed. "I am. I'm like Shakespeare. Yo!". Wade then extended his right hand, showing an imaginary horizon while handing the microphone towards Darren.

"Darren Young, will you now apologize to the world...?"

"Not a chance", Young replied with a big smile. Barrett looked briefly at the ceiling while the man continued, stumbling a little on his words. "I had the time of my life last week."

Barrett hung his head again, and remained still for long seconds, before he decided to move on to the final man in the line. Back then, Cena was grinning widely in front of Wade's epic failure. He was just chagrined that there were no popcorns in his locker room. Barrett reached the last man and lifted his head to him. Cena noted some tension between the two men as they briefly locked eyes, before the man looked away, with an arrogant smile on his face. Obviously, if none had apologized earlier, there would certainly be no hope with him. Barrett's voice became slightly annoyed, but he avoided locking eyes again with the other man.

"David Otunga, as the final one, please save us all, just apologize!". Right now, with everything he had witnessed later, Cena could understand better the situation. It was not a call for help at all. The tension he had then felt between the two men were for the leadership. Otunga always looked at Barrett with a slight contempt, never answering straight away or going into action directly after one of his orders, but always letting slip a second or two before complying. As if he always sent a silent message to Barrett: _'I'll fulfil your request, but I don't recognize you as my leader, you're just a mere front-man'_. Cena wanted to mentally kick himself. Again. Had he realized that tension earlier, he could have manipulated the Nexus, and quickly turn them one against the others, not forgetting the pop-corn this time. The golden and black army would have been destroyed way before this evening TLC match. And none would be in hospital tonight.

The _'please save us all'_ was not a call for help. At all. Barrett rather meant_: 'You want to know what leadership is? You'll have to also experiment what responsibility is. Try and see if you can make up for the rest of the team! You claimed to everyone that you were able to swim without your rubber ring? But you were just at the relaxing depth of the swimming pool. Let me take you to the DIVING depth of it!'_

Otunga's smirk became more arrogant, if possible. "Apologize? For what? After the way _we_ were treated? Shoot! They need to apologize to _us_!". He chuckled a little, looking sideway to Barrett with eyes somehow dark. "You know what I'm saying, heh?"

Barrett was still looking straight ahead of him. His expression was neutral, but his eyes could almost mean: _'No, I don't know what you're saying. I was in Acapulco these past months, trying to drink myself to death in order to forget what a bunch of losers I was stuck with! Except that they were too many Latin men trying to sell me Chiclets on the beach, so I rather came back here. You thought I was with you this whole time? Jeez, you're really delusional, there... You should consider a group therapy.'_

Of course, Cena couldn't form these thoughts back then, he didn't know Barrett well enough. But after weeks of staying close to that man when he was part of the Nexus, he could almost trace the first lines of how the Brit was thinking. Even though the man always managed to surprise him.

Barrett had walked away from his men in a slow and heavy pace, as if he was trying to gain some time, in order to gather his thoughts and deliver the most appropriate speech, for the least damage.

"Well, well, well...", he started, before he looked up at the WWE crowd again. "It looks like it's unanimous". He would follow the group's decision, and as a leader, would endorse their voice. And once he decided to walk that path, the rest of the speech became easy.

"You see... The problem with NXT, was that we were treated like dirt. We were treated like animals. And when you treat people like animals, soon or later, they are gonna start to _behave_ like animals". Barrett had totally regained his poise, and each of his words was carefully chosen, with the correct volume and frequency to add the maximum effect and put upon everyone.

The crowd had no other solution than to seek hope with their eternal hero, the leader of the Cenation, the one who could push away every spots of darkness. Never knowing that their very hero was actually hiding in his locker room, they began to chant Cena's name in loops. That name seemed to annoy every rookies on the ring. Barrett chose to ignore those voices and went on.

"We were made to change in a locker room no bigger than a broom cabin. We were made to compete in ridiculous challenges". To that, the bitter or chagrined face expression of the other rookies spoke a lot, but the crowd didn't care as _they_ had found the tournament quite amusing. Especially the stupid trials. Barrett went on: "We were at the mercy of overzealous WWE pros".

In his own not-so-small locker room, Cena grinned as someone in the crowd threw with fake compassion a pack of tissue on the ring. Barrett frowned imperceptibly then chose to ignore it and went on: "And then worst of all...", he marked a pause just for the drama, "we had WWE management...". He had to interrupt himself as the crowd grew loudly indignant. How could these men bite the hand that was feeding them? Barrett frowned and went on: "The WWE management, who was so _fit_ to change the rules on us at a moment's notice... Who eliminated us on a whim! And who - to be quite honest - tried to make an international _joke_ out of all of us."

The reaction from the crowd was mixed. Some were laughing at the memories, but others apparently agreed with Barrett about the trials. Many amongst the WWE universe, as well as Cena and most of the WWE wrestlers, had seen them during the NXT tournament, and while the fights and the speech contests were entertaining, some trials seemed to have been specifically created just to test the limit of their nervous resistance. Cena let his memories run to the many NXT tapes he had watched this week, as part of his investigation on Wade Barrett. Many times, the Brit had refused to accomplish one of the trials, as he judged that his dignity would take a fatal blow. He had never _played along_, immuring himself from the rest of the group, becoming an easy target when it came to quarrels. Not that he was afraid, though! Every man who tried and picked a fight with him, would have a run for his money. There was a kind of Security Perimeter around Barrett. Once you trespassed it, he would just hit you without any warning. On the other end, he never stayed quietly on aside, playing dead and trying to pass unnoticed. No, he would rather go right in the middle of his opponents, and wait for the first fool who would just as _scowl_ at him. How a lone wolf like him could have become the leader of a whole pack never ceased to amaze Cena.

But then again, John had been around him for many weeks, while he was an unwilling member of the Nexus, and he had seen how Barrett used to deal with most conflicts. Of course, when Wade was with the rest of the Nexus pack, no one dared cross his path, unless they too had their own pack to _greet_ them. But Cena had to sadly recognise that he had never seen a group as united as the Nexus was. Well at least, on the surface. Very few knew about the tensions behind the curtains.

But even alone, Wade Barrett was terrible to deal with. His huge size, and broad shoulders alone were a guarantee for him of uneventful walks in the WWE buildings. Occasionally, some isolated wrestler would jump at him from behind a corner, but then the said wrestler would automatically pronounce words like: "Oh, sorry... I thought you were someone else...".

And even if people would walk _straight_ to him, neutral or foes, he would just simply look down at them, leaning slightly forward menacingly, his eyes staring right _through_ them, he didn't even have to _speak_. The person in front of him - whether technician, journalist, or fellow-wrestler - would have the feeling of an oppressive aura around him pinning them down while no physical contact actually happened. And as this reputation - and the reputation of the Nexus - was preceding him, Barrett had managed to defeat many opponents outside of the ring without ever touching them. Some people would call this just _'bluff'_, he preferred to call that '_exquisite talent_'.

After awhile in the Nexus, Cena had found a way to solve the problem of the imposing presence and no-trespassing zone. If a conflict was rising too high between he and Barrett on the ring, John wouldn't let the younger man proceed to his classical routine of walking slowly towards him, and casting a gloom over him with his daunting aura. John would _trespass_ right away, and go into direct contact with Barrett, usually ending with their foreheads or torsos smashing against each other, like raging bulls, to try and see who would push the other away. And John Cena had quickly learned that the no-trespassing area was like _Holy Ground_ for Wade Barrett.

At an early stage of this unusual type of intra-Nexus in-ring conflicts, Barrett had generally exploded very quickly, his face red and contracted with fury and his eyes turning from a soft green into a cold murderous gray, yelling at him almost hysterically in a language John wasn't even sure that it was English any longer. Well, at least, not the _american_ English he was used to. During these first encounters, John had been petrified with fear more than once, but he had never showed it. He wasn't sure that Barrett was totally sane - having dealt with Randy Orton for so long tended to make John a bit paranoid. Had Barrett just _smelled_ fear on him, John was sure the Brit would have ripped him apart and strangled him with his own intestines. But Cena would never give up - it was written in flashy colors on his tee-shirt as a reminder, just in case he forgot - and he kept going in contact with Barrett at any conflict occasion. After awhile, he even turned this into a little game of his. Any occasion to have a slight victory over his tormentor was something he treasured and which helped him go through the day. Especially since he had received strict instructions from the General Manager: as long as he was part of the Nexus, he was to never lay a finger on Barrett, his dark leader.

But after awhile, Cena had noted some changes operating. Barrett had become less hysterical, more playful. At some point, the Brit might have understood Cena's game, and decided to turn the tables. This change in behavior had happened quite fast. One week, John would drive the younger man crazy on the ring; the next week, Wade would start provoking the older wrestler with insults or hurting terms, knowing that Cena wouldn't be allowed to solve this in his usual way: a punch in the nose, and an Attitude Adjustment finisher move.

Wade would pressure Cena until the American couldn't contain himself any longer and run to the Brit in full bull-mode. His face was now the one red and contorted, while Wade remained almost calm and amused in comparison, with a victorious smiled plastered on his face every times he had made Cena snapped.

And even after Cena retreated, Wade would still walk in contact with him again, almost brushing against him, trying to provoke him into a fight once more, his bright and amused smile never leaving his face. Both knew that as long as John was not allowed to _physically_ fight against Barrett, the younger one would always be the winner of these encounters.

So John had come up with another _game_ against Wade. Something on which Barrett was clearly his inferior due to his lack of ring experience. Barrett could be a "Cap'tain Charisma" in the ring whenever he took the microphone and spoke in his beguiling voice - especially as the WWE universe started to get used to his accent - but he was no match to Cena whenever it came to comical catchwords.

The leader of the Cenation had realised this almost by accident. As usual, Barrett had walked slowly to him, leaning slightly forward until their were just inches apart, and looking down at him in an imposing way, pointing to a mistake John had done the week earlier and which had embarrassed the whole Nexus group. That day, Cena was tired, and didn't want to put up with Barrett's mockery any longer, nor did he feel like going into a physical conflict as he suspected that it was what Barrett sought. He had simply retorted to Wade with his _"you can't see me"_ gimmick, his hand moving between his face and Barrett's. The public had directly laughed. And in moments like these, John needed the crowd support as much as a fire needed oxygen to keep burning. What he hadn't planned, was Wade's reaction. The Brit's face expression had remained almost neutral, but John had seen a tiny amused sparkle in his eyes, and the tip of his ears had turned into a bright red. Wade had finally looked away, smiling softly, giving up on John, to turn his complete and undying attention on another faulty Nexus member, as if by chance, David Otunga!

Back then, Cena was still too bewildered to fully appreciate his victory. But he had provoked the situation many times afterwards. Whether on the ring, in front of the cameras, or when they were just the Nexus team alone, Cena would retort with some humor or jokes whenever he had the occasion, and mentally incremented his victory count everytimes he would see Wade's ears turning red, as if two lamps had been switched on. Oh, Barrett probably had some sense of humor, deep inside, but Cena was way out of his league! Not to mention that Barrett was from Great Britain. British humor was not considered as humor at all by most Americans. Barrett never got a chance to beat him at that game.

John's thoughts went back to the present, in this cold hospital corridor. He had just realised that he was smiling. Not the lunatic smirk he was unconsciously wearing earlier when he was remembering the many death scenario he had in reserve for Wade in his fantasy world. No, he could feel now that it was a real smile, a warm smile. He frowned.

_'Wait... I'm smiling wh__ile thinking about Barrett?'_

The voice in his head remained silent. Well, maybe this wasn't how it worked, these inner conversations. He would have to start an _innocent_ discussion about that with Orton next time he would see him.

_'And what next?'_, Cena went on, all alone in his head. _'I'm going to realise that I was _happy_ with that bastard around while in the Nexus?'_

But now that the thought had been formulated in his mind, he realized that things could have been _really_ worse for him in the Nexus, had Barrett not be their leader. Come to think of it, his life in the Nexus, with for example _Otunga_ as the leader, would have been a mind-numbing nightmare! He would have gladly slit his wrists open out of boredom! With Wade, at least, there was some fun. He hadn't just realised it before.

His mind drifted back to what had provoked a drastic change in their game. It was a session where - again - Barrett was reproaching him an action he had done earlier that evening. Cena was exhausted by two sleepless nights, and he was not in mood for funny catch phrases. The Nexus leader had started insulting him, keeping on pushing him to an anger corner. Cena had wondered why Barrett wanted so much to keep him in the Nexus, if he was _such a failure_. There certainly was a reason, there had to be, but he just couldn't exactly put his finger on it. All he knew is that it ought to be extremely important for Barrett.

"Tell me Cena", Barrett was talking in his microphone, but also directly in John's right ear. Cena could almost feel his breath on his skin, and it was taking everything in him not to push the younger man away. "Tell me why I shouldn't fire you on the spot after all this?".

Cena sighed. He had enough for tonight. He was weary, and all he wanted was to return to the hotel and catch a full night of sleep. He turned towards Barrett, their noses almost touching. He looked straight in his green eyes and simply replied, directly into the microphone: "Because you want me so much, it would kill you". The second later, he grimaced and briefly closed his eyes, suddenly realizing that in his exhaustion, he had forgotten to say "- in your Nexus group". He had initially meant: _'Because you want me so much IN YOUR NEXUS GROUP, it would kill you'_. He shrugged. People were not stupid. They would understand, for sure.

He opened his eyes when he realized that no response could be heard. He glanced around and saw that everybody seemed to be frozen on the ring. Most of the Nexus members were strangely expressionless, but Cena remembered the silly smile he saw on Heath Slater. He frowned, annoyed at the red haired kid, before he brought back his focus on Wade, and froze.

Wade was just staring at him, with a bewildered expression on his face, his mouth slightly agape, and... the tip of his ears bright red again! But Wade was not the only problem. Cena was so used on how to perceive the variation of emotions from the crowd to better interact with his fans in his ad-lib, that the sudden decrease of volume in their clutter rang an alarm in his mind. But before he could ever say a joke to correct the situation, Wade had turned away, bringing his attention to... David Otunga!

"So, David... Not only did you take MY Nexus team to Smackdown without my authorisation, but you didn't bring back any victories?"

Cena had sighed with relief, glad the subject had moved. This was just another increment to the red-ears count he mentally kept. By the time Otunga had been 'admonished' by his leader for his bad initiative, Cena didn't think about his Freudian lapsus any longer...

... until the week after. With no communication between them, Wade had apparently come up with the conclusion that John had decided to take the 'funny catch-phrase' game to a whole new level. But unfortunately he had ventured in an area of 'humor' where the leader of the Nexus was much more familiar with. It was time for Barrett to score off him a little, and end Cena's steak of victories of 42-0.

Wade had called John in the Nexus locker room to give him instructions for the evening. Cena could still remember these instructions as if it were yesterday.

"... and you'll be fine, okay?". As usual, Wade's voice was softer than on the ring, almost caring. "And after you've done the right thing, after you've raised my hand in victory...", Wade paused, and tried - in vain - to suppress a smile on his face at the thought of the upcoming joke. "... I want you to clean my locker room".

Cena snapped, so much _that_ instruction differed from all the previous ones he had just received. "WHAT?". Then he saw the glee in Wade's eyes as the youth went on like he was speaking to a four year old retard.

"Simple. I want you to sweep", he started, doing the appropriate gestures for Cena, "then I want you to mop...". John clenched his jaws. He knew he was forced to follow Barrett's orders, on penalty of being fired from the WWE, but sometimes, the requests were becoming completely out of hand.

Wade leant slightly on Cena. "And when you've done all that...", John then noted that Wade's ears were becoming bright red again, as if the youth was having fun at his own joke. John briefly wondered if he could add this to _his_ count, when Wade went on: "...you can scrub my back".

For a brief moment, John was lost, until he realized that this was Wade's response to his Freudian slip from the week before. Suddenly, the American started to dread the escalation that this game would meet in the upcoming weeks. Wade looked deep into his eyes for a moment, then burst out of laughing and had to walk away, leaving John with only one question: was is just a joke, or a direct order?

**·..·**

John opened his eyes and glanced around in the still deserted hospital corridor. So white, so cold. In his memory dive, he had drowsed again, but the red light was still on. He looked down at his watch and saw 03:17 am. Only ten minutes had passed since the last time he had checked. Even if he had started drowsing, he knew for sure that Wade Barrett was still in the operation room. And the amusement he had felt at those memories started to drift away just as his Rage had drifted away once he had stared into Wade's vacant green eyes on the ramp. He could persuade himself that the reason he seemed to only remember the good or funny memories from his life in the Nexus now, was due to his exhaustion and stress. But then, why - when he had plenty of hours of sleep - would he only remember the _bad_ side of Wade Barrett and the Nexus?

Why couldn't he have remembered the good sides while he was hunting down the man with his chair? Why couldn't he have remembered their little games, when he had started beating him repetitively, claiming to his fans that Wade deserved every hit he received?

Most of all: why hadn't he realized that in that group of psychos called "The Nexus", Wade and him had actually been the closest thing to _friends_ that you could ever imagine?

Why couldn't he have realized that... just before he had hit Wade's head full force with the edge on his chair, with the _(officially-unconscious)_ intend of killing him?

Why would you always realize what you had, only once you lost it?

**·..·**

**·..·..· -•(-•-•-)•-..·..·**

**TO BE CONTINUED.**

**·..·..· -•(-•-•-)•-..·..·**

**·..·**

A very fast update that will probably have surprised a bunch of people, here ;-)

This chapter was quite **mixed in styles**. And I must say, when I once wrote the synopsis of the whole story, I never intended to put some humour into it. But as I was listening to the musics mentioned above in the "author's note", the mood changed _with_ the musics, and I almost wrote everything at once. Least to say that I was sometimes howling with laughter, and I scared my room-mates ;-)))

For Wade's speech and reaction to the "**apologies**" of his team mates, I observed carefully the video (RAW 2010.06.14), and you can really see him as the nice bloke there. You almost feel sorry for him ;-)

For the **"tip of Wade's ears turning bright red"**, it is real. You can observe it in the videos, especially when he's interacting with Cena ;) It shows that Wade is _really_ having fun even if he pretends to be evil ;)

And the so famous **"scrub my back"** part... ;) You can see it at RAW 2010.11.01. :D

**·..·**

**Reply to reviews**** (in english, but also in french):** First of all, thanks to : Failed to De-anon, LRyukshinigami, Nefra, Rebelwilla, and Roronoa Minamino :) When I receive an email telling me that I have a new review, it's almost like Christmas day for me ^_^

I'm glad that you globally love this **"boyfriends" misunderstanding**. Of course, Cena has never actually _said_ that he was Wade's boyfriend. He just neglects to deny it, while the nurses are building castles in the air. But as he's not part of Wade's family, he quickly realised that that misunderstanding was the only thing that would allow him to stay near Barrett, and check on him.

I was glad that some of you remembered when **Cena was the Bad** Guy during his debut at WWE (Smackdown). But I'm also happy if that story made you discover something you ignored about "The Champ" ;) If someone as bad as him could become the crowd favorite he is now, just imagine what someone as Barrett, with already quite some good sides, could become in the future :)

I love how several of you developed the part with the **make-up covering the old wounds**, leading to either Cena being wrongly seen as a boyfriend-beater in a case of **domestic violence**, or Wade being the victim of an **homophobic aggression**. That's what I love in stories, it's when people will ask questions, seek for answers, try to imagine the possible futures. You may be right, or you may be wrong. But even during the days _(weeks, months?... years?)_ between two updates, you keep the story alive :,-) Keep sending your ideas/suggestions/questions as they come, so that I'll know if what I write in understandable, and if the paths (or eventual traps?) are clearly defined ;)

**Some questions of yours** may also lead me to develop some little parts, to **reply through the story**. Such as this question by Nefra about Cena who thinks he can sometimes hear **voices** in his head, while it's typically a Randy Orton trademark. This has started to be developed in this chapter ;)

**- Nefra: **(review in french)

**M**erci pour la correction orthographique :) J'ai été changer tout de suite ;)  
**P**as de casque anti-bruit. Mais un casque avec de la **musique** et j'ai bossé la nuit pendant que tout le monde dormait, en parallèle du montage vidéo pour le film RAGNAROK.  
**P**our ce qui est du parallèle de style d'écriture avec Barrett, je ne faisais pas en fait référence à son article sur son accent, mais à son article sur son incident en Hongrie. L'ambiance décrite des lieux et des gens ainsi que de son échappée et de sa réaction au moment où il a été poignardé, me faisait énormément penser à l'ambiance et le style d'autres histoires que j'écrivais (dont le début de "GATES OF AVALON"), pas au niveau fond, mais au niveau de la forme. J'avais juste l'impression d'être en train de lire un truc que j'aurais pu écrire. ;-)  
**"Ce soir dans notre fic**...": hé oui ben c'est pas encore dans ce chapitre que vous aurez appris dans que état Wade Barrett va sortir de la salle d'opération ;-)  
**L**es **Jaders** devaient se régaler au chapitre 4? Ah ben qu'est-ce que ça doit être dans ce chapitre, hein? ;-)  
**L**es voix de **Randy** qui lui disent "breathe in, breathe out,...": oui, c'est bien une adaptation d'une des nombreuses blagues sur les blondes ;-)

**·..·**

**- ****Making Of Chapter 4. "The Right Choice"-**

My first version of the previous chapter was a bit aggressive when it came about **Wade Barrett's accent**. I took my inspiration from when I was living in California, and some people were making fun of my accent, which is a mix of the various places where I lived: a slight trace of french accent but with an influence from Chester, Wales, Manchester and Liverpool accent. Plus traces of Californian and Hawaiian accents too. As I easily pick people's accents, my own accent can also vary, depending who I just talked to. ;) ( for example, during a phone conversation, I might start with an accent, and end it with another accent ;-) ).

Well, back in 1999, the guys who were making fun of my accent, were coming from Texas, which is not exactly the place with the finest accent in the world. I couldn't figure out if they actually just _spoke_ or _puked_ their words OO; Well, actually they were making fun of _anybody_ who had a different accent than theirs... And we were in Venice, California, where thousands of people from all over the world were usually gathering. I was wondering how long those Texans would survive with a mentality like that.

So, **draft **_**(1.4)**_ of chapter 4, as of **2011.02.04** was:

_**"Of course, as most of these happy Neanderthal fellows had probably never left their GROTTO in their whole life, they didn't know that there was a whooooole world of people outside, who "talked funny" as well."**_

_(I think it__'s clear that I was still quite pissed off at that memory ;) )_

But this would be more what you would expect from "the evil Wade Barrett", than from "the hero John Cena" (who's already American). So I had to soften a bit that part, in a more politically-correct way. Thus, the **final version**_** (1.7):**_

_**"**__**Of course, as most of the crowd members had probably never left their hometown in their whole life, they didn't know that there was a whole world of people outside, who "talked funny" as well."**_

**In mid-March 2011**_**, **_I fell upon a blog article written by **Wade Barrett** himself, written in 2010 (so way before I ever started writing "Never Got a Chance"). The part about how Americans could be soooo tolerant with people having a different accent was:

_**"**__**If you ever take a trip outside of your own bedroom, you may discover that there is a whole world of people out there who 'talk funny'." - Wade Barrett**_

I was amused as how we perceived the problem in a quite similar way :)

But of course, what else to expect? Wade and I both lived in the same areas in UK, made the same kind of studies, had similar works, both made complete career turn to go back to a childhood dream (him: wrestling; me: movie making), and this, against our respective families opinions, took (of course) the necessary time to rebuild ourselves, both travelled a lot, went both through independent circuits (with of course the baggage of not-always-happy situations), (incidentally) both love to play football, are cat people (and both dislike dogs), can be both quite badass... It's totally normal that there will be some similarities in the way we shall perceive some events or situations. The writing style is just a funny "plus" ;-)

_( Now, I'm going to reassure you, there are __also plenty of things on which we're certainly not alike ;-) )._

So... back to the Chapter 4 making-of. As I saw that for the "accent" part, we had similar ways to broach the subject, I decided to make a **voluntary reference** (like an homage) to his article, with the _foreign language_ part.

**"****I dread to think what will happen if you encounter people speaking foreign languages. Your world may literally implode." - Wade Barrett**

However, my first adaptation was quite... uh... _putrid_.

**(version 1.6): "****If they ever discovered one day that there were people speaking **_**foreign**_** languages, the sudden increase of pressure in their skull would probably have their brain gush out through their ears, screaming FREEDOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!" **

I decided it would perhaps be better would I soften it a little (?) bit. So I decided to make a reference to what a kid had done for a Geography school test while I was living in California. They had to try and locate various countries on a simple world-map. The kid had managed to locate USA (don't laugh, there are apparently many Americans who actually can't -_- ), but for Russia, he had written "Evil. We bomb them". For Mexico, it was "Thiefs". For West-Europe it was "No electricity, no lift". And for the rest of the world: "Here Be Dragons", Here Be Dragons", Here Be Dragons").

**(version 1.7): ****"They probably didn't even know that there were people speaking **_**foreign**_** languages. On the world map, they were the type of people most likely writing "Here Be Dragons" on any country other than USA... **_**given**_** that they could locate USA correctly, of course."**

**·..·**

All right, after this quite long chapter (including a quite long reply also ;) ), I'm gonna go and catch some sleep ;) _(I often gets scenario or dialogs inspiration from the dreams I make, such as for Wade's POV in chapter one ;) Who knows what I'll come up with tomorrow ? :p)_

For those of you who would be interested, I have an account at **deviantart** (same name as my **twitter**: Roselyne777 ) where I put my recent drawings. Some can be already applied to the WWE fanfics here, and in a near future, I'll make more specific poster for my fanfics (WWE, LOTR, Saint Seiya, etc...). :)

Hugs and read you soon :)

::Roselyne::  
_(Twitter: Roselyne777_)


	7. Ch 6: The Wind that became a Storm

_Warning: _Before you proceed, just keep in mind that **English is NOT my mother language**. So there will certainly be mistakes in this text. Yet, I'm eager to improve, so if you see some corrections to make, don't hesitate to contact me :-)

_Background Music:_ As the atmosphere from a music can influence our mood and the way we write, here's the song that was playing in loops while I was writing this: **Papa Roach : "No Matter What"** ; **Ryan Star : "Start a Fire"** ; **Ne-Yo : "Beautiful Monster"** (just in case you too want to put yourself in the same atmosphere before reading ;) )

**·..·**

**·..·..· -•(-•-•-)•-..·..·**

**NEVER GOT A CHANCE**

_**Chapter 6 - The Wind that became a Storm**_

**·..·..· -•(-•-•-)•-..·..·**

**·..·**

**Houston Texas, December 20th 2010, 03:24 am**

John stood up from the bench he had been sitting on for the past four hours, if he forgot the few times he had jumped on his feet, each time believing that any passing nurse knew better about Wade Barrett's situation. He had given up by now. He had already dragged a lot of attention on him, not to mention the fact that probably the whole nurse crew believed now he was Wade's boyfriend if he judged by the curious and amused side-glances he was receiving. In a state so intolerant about fags, he had probably become funfair number one! If anything changed about Barrett, good or bad, there would _always_ be someone who would tell him. Damn, they would even _cat-fight _to deliver the message!

He chuckled slightly at the image that appeared in his mind. Oh, he wasn't feeling happy at all: he knew it was just out of nervousness and exhaustion. Yet, he couldn't help but smile, until a voice echoed in his mind.

_"Last time I __looked, jokes were meant to be funny!"_

John frowned, instantly recognizing Wade's voice, and cast a look toward the operation room door. Still the red lamp, still the closed door. Nothing had changed there. The voice was in his head. Probably a memory.

He focused on those words and drifted into his memories of Wade. After a few seconds, he remembered. It was again the 14th of June. When Wade had tried to make his team apologize to the WWE universe, and had failed miserably.

"I didn't see anyone laughing after Raw last week!". Barrett's low and strong voice had echoed in the whole arena. Surprisingly, the man seemed to have such a volume power, that even if the microphone would stop working, Cena thought that a lot of people in the crowd would still be able to hear him without him to be forced to use a megaphone. According to the fact they wouldn't try to cover him in boos anytime he started speaking to them, of course!

"Because we destroyed this ring", Barrett went on while most of his men had smiles on their face at the memories. For Cena as well as for many other wrestlers, the ring was a holy ground. What Barrett and his soldiers had done, was nothing else but blasphemy.

"We've beaten the living daylights out of the WWE champion and we impressed everybody who was watching us".

Cena had felt anger boiling in his veins at that moment. Forgotten the amusement and compassion he had felt earlier for Barrett when his team members had decided to screw their apologies to the WWE universe. The memory of the eight on one battle had painfully climbed back in his mind and he had rejoiced in the negativity the crowd had sent to Barrett for that comment. Did the Brit just explain all the destruction they had done the week before, as an illustration of a mere _joke_? Cena had clenched his fists and jaws but knew that running to the ring and trying to beat the _living daylights_ out of Wade Barrett wouldn't be bravery. It would just be suicide.

Wade started in his imperative voice: "So let me assure everyone right now, we-"

He was interrupted by the ear-splitting alarm-type sound that was the beginning of the General Manager Bret Hart music theme. The whole crowd started rejoicing, and after a few seconds of hesitation in his troop, Barrett motioned them in line to welcome the newcomer to their _little party_. They didn't look afraid or angry. From what he could see on his monitor, Cena found them looking rather happy and excited. Finally someone in power was listening to them!

Bret Hart walked until the top of the ramp, clad in jeans and leather coat, with sun glasses that prevented anyone from reading his thoughts and emotions, but - as Cena thought - were probably the way he had found to hide the leftovers of the previous night's heavy party.

"You guys look pretty proud of yourselves!", the General Manager started with a quite raucous voice, but before Wade could ever start any pompous reply, Bret went on: "Where I come from, eight guys on one doesn't make you tough. To me, that makes you more cowards than anything else".

As the crowd start cheering like crazy, Wade made two steps forward and put his hand on the top rope, narrowing his eyes as if he wanted to better observe the potential on this new enemy. Because with words like these, only a fool would have kept hoping for a happy ending. Right now, Barrett's brain had probably entered a new calculating process, eliminating the initial plans and imagining new ones that just needed a few words from Hart to solidify themselves.

"Last week", Bret Hart started after a deep breath, "you attacked John Cena, you attacked CM Punk... You beat up the straight-edge society", he fumbled a little with that last part, confirming Cena's doubts of the heavy party last night. A VERY heavy party that had probably continued throughout a good part of the day. John had silently prayed for Bret to be _below_ the stumble-then-vomit drunk level. The General Manager had perhaps breathed in a good amount of high pressure oxygen to be in shape to deliver a mind-blowing message to Barrett and his rookie team from NXT. Any failure from the General Manager would just boost Barrett's planet-sized ego even more.

"You've beaten up a bunch of security guys...", Hart went on. "You've roughed up a ring announcer, you roughed up a time-keeper, and you manhandled a hall of famer...".

As Hart took a deep breath, Barrett knew he had an opportunity to take control of the speech again. "You know, it's funny you should say that. Because we had a another member, a man by the name of Daniel Bryan. And strangely enough, he felt exactly the same way that you did. He actually felt some remorse. So let me assure you right now, you will never ever see Daniel Bryan here again".

Barrett remained silent for long seconds during which Michael Tarver held a "N" black and yellow armband in the air. Daniel's. Barrett's heavy silence didn't bode well for what had probably happened to the high-flyer. The crowd started booing. Cena knew, in the safety on his locker room, that the WWE universe would see Daniel Bryan as a hero, no matter what he had done earlier. Cena knew also that anyone thrown away from a group, is most likely to seek for revenge. Daniel Bryan, a name he should keep safely in a corner of his mind.

"So, what's your point, Hart?". Barrett sent the ball back to the General Manager.

"Well, my point is...", Bret made a slight pause for the style, "... despite everything, John Cena will be in the championship match for the Fatal-Four-Way pay-per-view next Sunday, whether you like it or not!"

In the safety of his locker room, John had cringed. Why had Bret Hart thrown his name like this? Why put oil on Barrett's fire? Couldn't he forget about him for a little while?

Barrett had been caught off-guards. He turned to his team members with a nervous smile while some of them where rolling their eyes. Wade rose the mic to his lips again and spoke to the General Manager.

"John Cena, heh?"

John noted something different in Barrett's voice. The tone seemed unsteady. No more the imperial confidence. His eyes were even strangely shining, as if he was trying to contain some emotion.

"John Cena? This has _nothing_ to do with John Cena!". The unease in the Brit's voice was still slightly there, like his throat was somehow clenched by the same emotion John hadn't understood back then, but thought he did in the next minutes, only to realize it fully now.

"You see, this has nothing to do with the people in this arena", Wade went on with a gesture including the crowd, his voice now steady again, as if he was trying to move away from a sensitive topic. "This is between us, and WWE management".

There was a pause where Wade licked his dry lips before going on: "You see, the truth be told, aside from a few overzealous ex-NXT pros, we haven't gotten a problem with a single person in the WWE locker room."

There was another silence where the Brit let everyone realize this important fact: so far, except from the casualties list given by the General Manager a few moments earlier, Barrett and his group had done nothing _really _bad. So far, except for their misplaced _humor_, they were still acceptable people.

"So, the simple fact is this", Barrett went on. "We can stay out here all night arguing...". His tone clearly meant he had all the time of the world, probably until the end of days, but knew that this would just be unproductive. "But I think we need to get down to business, and the way I see it right now, the business is this: I've got a WWE contract. I've got a WWE title opportunity, at a pay-per-view of my choosing..."

The crowd started booing again. Apparently, they didn't think someone as evil as he was, who had attacked their favorite, deserved such a honor. Wade didn't pay attention to the nature of their feelings, but just waited for the volume of boos to decrease so that he would be able to hear himself talking.

"... but this group of men behind me, they got some demands on their own", he concluded before passing the mic to David Otunga.

"Ah yeah?", Hart said, mildly curious. "And what would those be?"

David took the mic and stepped forward with a dark and malevolent look. "Like Wade Barrett...", and John could kick himself for not having realized sooner the venom in Otunga's voice when he said the Brit's name. "... we all want guaranteed WWE contracts".

The boos came back at once. Who those guys did they think they were? First they attacked treacherously their hero, destroyed the holy ring, hurt a lot of innocent people, and now they dare to think they _deserved_ a contract with the most renowned wrestling company in the world?

Otunga didn't pay attention to them with much more than a disgusting sneer and went on: "We want our own private dressing room. No more changing in closets in a hallway!"

The boos reduced, as if the people of the WWE universe realized that this demand actually made some sense. But Otunga took this as too much of a victory, and, flushed with success, he went a bit too far: "... and of course, we want 1st class travel accommodations all the way around...".

If it made Heath Slater and Justin Gabriel smile at this sudden interesting and bright idea, Wade got a thin tense smile and slightly tapped Otunga's arm in a silent message to stop now. Otunga freed his arm from Wade's hand and went on: "Now if you fail to comply with even _one_ of our demands...", he made a pause and laughed slightly, "well last week, Hart, was just a beginning".

Hart got an enigmatic smile on his face that clearly meant danger. Wade had probably felt it, for he took the mic from Otunga, apparently unease with the last half of the speech of the Hollywood man. The Brit obviously knew the limit not to cross. Otunga did not.

"Now then...", Wade started to the General Manager, trying to get back the situation at hand before Hart would have a temper at their group. "Before you say another word, let me remind you of this: two weeks ago, Mister McMahon informed you that as a General Manager of RAW, you would have some very _very_ difficult decisions to make. I assure you right now, this one, this isn't a difficult decision. This one is easy."

Bret Hart removed his sun glasses, revealing tired eyes, but a quiet look. He looked rather good compared to what Cena was expecting. The General Manager let Wade going on with the expression of someone who's patiently listening to the last wish of a condemned man.

"... Because what I have behind me is a group of men who are highly polished young athletes", Wade went on with some fervor in his voice. "These men could be the future of this company!"

Cena observed how his words had an effect on his troop, even on the rebellious Otunga. Barrett was truly a leader of men. Not because his mighty actions brought instinctively people around him, wanting to bath in his light. No, he rather was someone who knew which words to place where, when, and with which tone to have the maximum effect. Someone who could manipulated groups, and even entire crowd. A charismatic politician. And an extremely dangerous one.

"They're dressed, they're here, they're ready to fight, all they need is a contract". Cena pushed aside the image of the politician to replace it with a seller on a TV show, trying to persuade tetraplegics to buy a 5-speed mountain bike because fresh air would make good to their mood. _'And if you contact A&E right now, you can get for an additional 15$ only a phosphorescent helmet for security, in case you'd want to ride in the pitch-black moonless night'_.

"You could change History by giving them that contract", Wade concluded, trying to convince Bret Hart with what every man desires: the access to immortality through the Books.

"Well, you know you're right about that", the General Manager started. "It is my job to go out there, search and find new fresh talent".

While all the unemployed rookies were rejoicing, Cena had observed on his monitor that Wade remained neutral, like cautious. He was not the type of person to celebrate before the contract was signed. He was sure Bret Hart would try to discuss, to lower some of the demands (the silly first class demands from Otunga to say the least). Hart went on.

"Well... with that in mind, my answer for you is NO!"

The crowd cheered loudly. Finally someone who was resisting that group of hooligans!

Wade frowned, puzzled. He had expected Hart to refuse_ some_ of the demands, not _all_ of them! He had assumed that the man would love the idea of hiring new talents without having to lose his time searching for them. It's not like they were total unknown guys. For months, anybody in the WWE had been able to follow their progress in the NXT tournament. Cena had discovered later that Barrett had two favourites in his team, two he found particularly promising: Slater and Gabriel, with whom he had already worked a lot before in FCW.

He had expected Hart perhaps to accept some of the rookies and not others, where the negotiations would start. He just hadn't think Hart would refuse the _whole_ package. No one in charge should be _that_ stupid, shouldn't he?

"I'm not gonna sign _any_ of you guys", the General Manager went on. "As far as I'm concerned-", he was interrupted by Barrett.

"Oh, let me assure you, you are making a very _very_ big mistake here", Wade wasn't trying to sound threatening. Not yet. But his voice was firm and didn't bode well. Unfortunately, it didn't impress Hart at all.

"**YOU** are the one that has made a mistake, my friend!". Cena almost cringed for Wade and again wished he had some popcorns. When Hart called anybody _'friend'_, it usually meant that the shit was about to hit the fan. Wade frowned and stares suspiciously at the General Manager as the older man went on:

"You've already made a mistake when you attacked Cena on Raw last week!". Again, Cena cringed, but not for Wade this time. Why did Hart keep telling his name over and over again? Was it to make him look like the enemy there? Was it to make sure that if Wade wanted to destroy a culprit later on, he would rather strike at Cena instead of him?

"You made the biggest mistake of your life!", the General Manager's voice echoed in a sinister way inside the arena. The NXT rookies were still in line, Wade was shaking his head in denial, not knowing (or not _wanting_ to know) where Hart was heading to. He unconsciously bit his lower lip.

"I'm not gonna sign any of you guys!"

Some people in the crowd cheered. Hart took a deep breath before going on, his eyes now staring straight at Wade's, across the distance between the top of the ramp and the middle of the ring where the NXT athletes were standing.

"The truth is: on account of your actions, you're no longer the new superstar next breakout star for WWF anymore."

Cena blinked, wondering if he had heard correctly. He came up with the conclusion that if Bret Hart was not drunk to the point of vomiting or peeing on himself, he was probably drunk enough to have forgotten that the company had stopped being called WWF since... 2002 for the name "WWE". In which forsaken land or dwarves' grotto full of beers had the man been hiding for the past 8 years?

"...and you can forget the idea of having a championship match of any pay-per-view of your choice!", the general manager went on, not leaving Wade any time to question or protest.

Wade was frozen. His narrowed eyes were glued on Hart, and he just managed to mouth a bewildered _'what?'_. But Cena was sure the younger man could feel his doom approaching.

"It's not gonna happen anymore, and you want to know why?", Bret Hart questioned, while the crowd's cheers was rising, as if _they_ had already understood. Unless it was only the _idea_ that the evil Brit wouldn't get the honour of a title match that made them so happy. Bret Hart took another deep breath and gave his answer.

"Because you are FIRED!"

As the cheers loudly exploded, Wade just stood, in complete shock, not fully understanding that _this_ was happening. After everything he had been through, and the promise of a WWE contract in the end of NXT, he had never thought that _someone_ would dare going against the NXT tournament rules and agreements. The other rookies turned to him with the same shock on their face, though for different reasons. More egoistical. If the only person who could connect them to the WWE was fired, they had nothing left. They were all just thrown backwards in time, before the NXT, with the problem now that they had all ended their contract with their respective federation to join NXT, and none of them thought that they would be easily accepted back. The nightmare had befallen on them all, but it was Wade Barrett who had just taken the highest damage.

He could have walked away with his contract without a second look to his former NXT rivals, as it was how it should have been. But noooo, he had to be the nice guy and take them under his wings, hadn't he? He just couldn't rejoice to have finally reached his childhood dream by entering the WWE. He had to take with him people who had all tried to beat and defeat him in the past. People who hadn't hesitate a second to attack him at seven on one during the NXT royal rumble. He had shown compassion to his former enemies. And now it was just exploding right in his face. He had just wasted a lifetime opportunity.

Many would have crumbled on the floor, crying, begging for another chance. But Wade had just stood there. He then closed his eyes and passed a hand over his face as Hart went on:

"Now as for the rest of you guys...", all the rookies were suspended to his lips, hoping for some good news amidst the chaos. "You can get the hell out of the ring right now. Or you'll leave me no other choice than to call the police and have you _physically_ removed for trespassing!"

It was how the reality of the situation hit them. Some rookies grabbed their hair or head and shouted or lifted their eyes to the ceiling, like praying God for mercy. Sheffield looked like he was about to destroy the ring once more. It wouldn't help, but it would certainly make him feel better. Wade was trying to find a solution, but he was confronted to the classical writer's block. He hadn't planned this, and for that, he was angry at himself. But there were also sparks of despair and sadness in his eyes. Cena knew now what had been on Barrett's mind at that moment.

Bret Hart had so much insisted in mentioning Cena here, Cena there, that Wade could easily believed that Cena had gone to the chairman and whined about the beating; that Cena had pushed the _right_ buttons. That himself had lost his childhood dream because of the leader of the Cenation.

And as John remembered now the look of almost total admiration in Wade's eyes that day of May, he could easily picture the disappointment, the sadness, the broken heart of the younger man who had seen his idol being the instrument of his destruction. A mixture of feelings that could only lead to two paths: Depression, or Hatred.

**·..·**

In the red light of the cold corridor of his Houston hospital, Cena passed a hand on his face and sighed with despair. That day of May. It seemed that all had started there. So many lives would have been spared, had he swallowed his pride and anger, and told the right words. He regretted he hadn't understood it earlier. Even back when he was inside the Nexus group, there would still have been time to correct the situation. He could have created a bond with Wade and tried to save him from himself. Or back at Survivor Series when he was the referee to the match between Randy and Wade for the WWE title: he could have counted to three with a normal speed and not a slow one each time Wade had pinned Randy on the mat. Yes, Wade would have become WWE champion... But right now John started wondering if himself had _really_ called the match down the middle as he had sworn and pretended. He had rather worked _against_ Wade on many occasions during that match. Maybe he hadn't been as fair as he had claimed.

He had been blinded. Blinded by pride, blinded by anger. Blinded by rage. He stood up from his bench again and started pacing. Anything to push the image of Wade's green eyes staring _through_ him as the younger man was lying lifelessly on the ramp a few hours earlier. He tried to focus his mind back on that 14th of June, after Hart had just fired Barrett from the WWE and destroyed his future.

"So get out! You're all through, you're done!", Hart's voice echoed in Cena's brain, "... Whether you like it or not!". After these words, Bret Hart - whose name was strangely almost an anagram of 'Barrett' - had turned his back on the NXT rookies and left the arena.

From his locker-room, Cena was observing the group on his monitor. They were starting to become nervous and losing cohesion. Without an official leader, nor a purpose any longer, they could riot in any time. Heath tapped Wade's shoulder, asking him for instructions, hoping that their fearless leader had foreseen this possibility and had _planned_ something. Wade had understood that the situation was similar to when none of them had apologized. He had to take a decision - quickly - and stick to it. He turned to Heath and made a reassuring gesture with his hands. "We'll have it. We'll have it. Just give me a moment". He also turned to the other rookies and tried to set their mind at rest.

And as he turned his gaze towards the man who was walking away with their future, Wade's look darkened: he had found a solution. Only _one_ appropriated solution. He quickly gathered his men and left the ring, reaching the backstage via a side alley and not the bright ramp he had come down less than fifteen minutes ago, when he was still the next breakout star, employed at the WWE. When he still had a future.

Cena had felt a cold sweat rolling down his back, watching at the scene. A man who had nothing to lose anymore was the most dangerous type ever. His stupidity in May, and Hart's bad decision that evening, had turned Wade into a monster. In John's mind, two images of Wade superimposed: his radiant face and shining eyes before their match in May, and the evil mocking smirk and dark eyes of the diabolic Nexus leader. Some people have naturally a bad seed in them, and turn evil by choice. Other people turned bad because they had _no_ other choice left. Cena suspected now that it had been the case for Wade. He had chained himself to a group, sworn to help his former enemies. His loyalty and - even if it surprised Cena to think that about Wade - his too good heart had been his downfall.

**·..·**

John turned his gaze away from the red light and stared at the round clock on the wall of the hospital corridor. At least, he could measure the passing time, for he had no watch and his cell-phone was shut down, as ordered in the entrance of the hospital. Yet, the clock horrible ticking sound, eating seconds and lives away, had two opposite effects on him.

On one hand, he found it stressing. Every tock following every tick like sneering ghosts seemed to remind John of the long time Wade had already spent in that operation room, fighting for his life. Assuming there was still any fight in him left. All because of him. And any new tick following a previous tock added to the guilt, remorse and fear John could already be feeling.

But on the other hand, that ticking sound - so loud and so steady - just felt like a heartbeat. Wade's heartbeat. John knew that as long as Wade was in the operation room, it meant his heart was still beating. That he was still alive. As much as John wanted that door to open to get news from him, he was starting to feel afraid of that door as well. What if it opened to sad news? That after hours of efforts, Wade had stopped fighting. That the train was gone. That the match was over. All because of him. As long as Wade's heart was beating, himself was not a murderer.

John resumed pacing in the corridor, still feeling the chilly air around him. He decided to have a little walk to try and find out the window that had probably been left open to the outside of this December night. In less than twenty-four hours, Winter would officially start its reign, but it felt like it was already in advance. Oddly, he remembered that he hadn't felt that cold when he had reached the parking lot after pursuing the ambulance throughout the city.

_'Yes, go and investigate'_, a cold voice whispered in the back on his mind. _'It will keep your mind busy from your real worries'._

Cena clenched his fists and went on, trying to ignore it. But the voice went on.

_'Like you give a shit about what will happen to Wade Barrett! All you are worr__ied about is you!'_

"Shut up...", Cena whispered in a hiss, his hands turning into fists. Oddly, the coldness of the air around him seemed to increase. Cena shook his head and ventured in the corridor, trying to keep the operation room at sight. It was easy not to miss it, with its horrendous red light on top of it.

After a few steps he felt the cold decreasing slightly, only to increase again after several seconds. John looked up, wondering if it was not the Air Conditioning system that had troubles. Maybe he should report that to the nurses.

_'Yeah right, do you__r good little Johnny and report some A/C malfunction. I hope it make you feel damn good to make up for the death-beating you gave earlier. Your victim is probably taking his last breaths on the other side of the door.'_

Cena growled. Again, he was wondering if it had started like that for Randy Orton. The WWE could deal with one of their wrestlers claiming he heard voices in his head telling him what to do to his opponents. But _two_? Better rename WWE into WWMI. World Wrestling Mental Institute.

_'Yes, Johnny'_. The voice again. _'Think again about the consequences it will have on _you_ only. Forget about Wade Barrett. You wanted to get rid of him, to stop him for good. You enjoyed the beating you gave him. You enjoyed every single agonizing scream you heard. You probably even enjoyed the bone-breaking sound you obtained. You stopped enjoying it only when you realized that your toy was kaput and not working any longer. Are you one of those people who want to have their cake AND eat it?'_

John clenched his teeth. What was worse? Believing Orton's madness had somehow been contagious and that he was entering the wonderful world of Schizophrenia? Maybe their respective voices could meet, and become friends, who knows?

Or accepting that the voice he heard in the back of his mind was just his own consciousness. Not the same cuddling voice of the Rage, earlier in the arena. That voice had been wild, warm, almost purring, cajoling. The voice he heard now was rational, cold but somehow sarcastic and mocking. A voice he hadn't heard for many years.

His own voice, from when he was a Heel in the company.

He shook his head, trying to mentally chase that voice away. This late hour and his exhaustion didn't help for a clear state of mind. That, and the pain he was starting to feel from his previous match against Barrett, now that the adrenalin had almost completely left his body. He felt he needed a warm bath, and at least 12 hours of sleep, to recover a little bit.

And as he resumed his walk to the nurses' office, his thoughts traveled back to that 14th of June, and how he had truly discovered that the NXT rookies first attack on him the week earlier, had not only caused physical injuries, but had left some psychological scars as well.

**·..·**

Later that evening, long after Barrett had led his troop out of the arena, John had inherit a tag-team match with Randy Orton, against Sheamus and Edge. He had walked from his locker room to the top of the ramp with an escort, in case Barrett and his rookies would want to take a revenge on him. But they had met no enemy. By security, to insure the NXT rookies would not invade the ring like the week earlier, the whole rooster was standing on the top of the ramp, as faithful and fearless guards. No rookie would have been able to go by them. The wrestlers in the ring were as safe as they could be. But Cena had shown some difficulty to focus on the match. Sometimes, he would forget about his opponent and would throw anxious look around him in the crowd, thinking he had caught sight of one of Barrett's minion. Just to realize it was just a fan with some random yellow logo on his sleeve, or a fan who happened to somehow _look_ like one of the rookies. At these moments, he was totally forgetting that with such an army at the top of the ramp, anybody wearing a black and yellow armband would have had less chance to reach the ring than a camel to pass through a needle eye. Right now, he realized that by that time, he was showing symptoms of a post-traumatic disorder.

But the fight had lasted enough, with enough tension and struggles, so that Cena has started to forget about the NXT group, and had his mind totally absorbed by the combat. His alliance with Orton was of a dangerous type, the man being known as relatively unstable, and the two guys in front of them were vicious back-stab experts. Everything he needed to keep his mind busy and soon, he had almost entered a state of trance, where nothing outside the ring - really _nothing_ - mattered anymore. He had started a dance he knew all too well, and his world was slowly turning into a bright white. And even with the pain from his opponents' attacks, he was smiling. He was feeling free. Just like a week after May's Beat-The-Clock match when he had forgotten about Barrett's name and face, the NXT incident was now the least of his concern.

When after a rough fight between Edge and Orton, Cena had tagged himself in and taken the lead, he was in full strength and ready to finish a weakening Edge. Suddenly, the lights in the arena had turned off, and on the giant screen above the line of _body guards_, Cena had seen his worst nightmare reappear: Barrett's yellow-and-black armband group was in the main hallway leading to the Arena, and was destroying everything they put their hands on. But actually, they were not walking _towards_ the Arena, but away from it. Cena understood when he saw Barrett and Sheffield dragging someone on the floor and yelling something about contracts. John needed a few seconds before he recognized Bret Hart.

As every wrestlers were in the Arena to protect Cena, there was no one left in the hallway to stop Barrett and his men. And Barrett had certainly foreseen that _mistake_ and turned it into his advantage.

Everybody in the arena, fans and wrestlers, were paralyzed and silent, under visible shock, and they all assisted to what followed as a brave cameraman had decided to follow the NXT guys and was strangely spared by them. Later on, Cena realized that Barrett had understood they needed the media if they wanted to spread the fear on everyone. This was the beginning of a truce with the tech crew. At least some people managed to be content with the situation.

They all saw Bret Hart being beaten up by every rookies, his clothes torn off, and thrown in a car in the underground parking lot. Barrett gave instructions to the driver and the man began to drive backward full speed, hitting a few other cars in the process. If he had his seat belt on, Cena was sure Bret Hart didn't have the time or strength to do so, and was probably living a very _very_ painful experience inside the car.

The car stopped. Barrett opened the door and yelled to Hart inside the car: "Do we have our contracts now? Do we?". He obviously didn't like the General Manager's answer, because he slammed the door and motioned the driver to do it all over again.

After the latest crash, Otunga and Sheffield opened the door and dragged an half unconscious Hart out of it, slamming him against the wreckage. All the rookies were yelling at the same time. Barrett made his way to the battered General Manager, leaned on him and held his collar to make sure he was paying attention to him. He then shouted in his ear. In the commotion around, Cena only heard that he was still talking about the contracts, and concluding by a _"we want an answer by Sunday!"_ before leaving the broken man, and leading his troop outside in the darkness. By the time help arrived for the General Manager, there was nothing else but chaos to testify of the previous violence here. And no one dared venturing outside in the dark, in fear that the NXT rookies would be there, waiting with predators' eyes.

Cena remembered that when he was in the NXT, Wade Barrett had spoken about winds of change that were about to blow on the WWE... The wind had become a storm. Wade's storm had arrived on RAW. It had shaken their entire universe. And RAW would never be the same again afterwards.

And as John passed the corner leading to the nurses' office, the bitter thought came back to him: if only he had said the right words in May... if only he hadn't been so stupid at first place... that storm would have never existed. It was not Wade's storm. It was his own; born from his own mistakes.

"... his boyfriend is there".

John needed two more seconds to realize that _that_ voice wasn't from his memories, and automatically, an alarm bell rang in his mind when he realized that it belonged to the Latino nurse. His breathing stopped in his chest when he saw her speaking on the phone. He prayed God so that she was talking about someone else's boyfriend, and that she was certainly not on the phone with anybody related to the WWE, inquiring about Barrett's situation. But she was looking straight at him with a little smile and a nod. There goes hope.

Cena felt cold again. Terribly cold. But not around him this time. _Inside_ him. And to think he had initially wanted to come to the nurses' office to report about an A/C malfunction... In the two seconds that followed - where he almost got the sensation to see his life flashing before his eyes - his gaze fell on a detail he hadn't seen before: the nurse name on the plate pinned on her blouse over the left pocket. Carla.

"Hold on a second, sir", Carla said, her eyes still on John, before she put her hand on the phone and whispered to him.

"Do you want to take a call from a mister Vince Mc Mahon?".

**·..·**

**·..·..· -•(-•-•-)•-..·..·**

**TO BE CONTINUED.**

**·..·..· -•(-•-•-)•-..·..·**

**·..·**

Yeah, you should know by now that I always love leaving you with cliff-hangers ;-)

A rather long chapter to compensate for the time you had to wait for an update. Ain't I nice? :p

Note: the **microphone** & **megaphone** part at the beginning (about Wade's voice) was a little wink to CM Punk this Monday Night Raw 2011.07.08 ;-)

**·..·..· -•(-•-•-)•-..·..·**

**REPLY TO REVIEWS****:**

First of all, thank you all for taking the time to leave your feedbacks. I hope you take as much pleasure reading my chapter that I take reading your comments :)

**Nefra: **

No, Barrett is not a (were)wolf ;) Here, it's John's **fear** that made him drifted back to basic instincts where he compares Barrett to a predator. As he doubted at some point about the **mental stability **of Wade, John would take _anything_ into account, if it means to save his life ;)

The "**Scrub my Back**" was not an order, but in the flow of orders Cena had received earlier from Wade, and his exhaustion state, he didn't know what to think any longer. I think you read my article on Catch-Au-Quotidien about this incident, right? ;)

I LOVED your **parody**! :D As I said on Twitter, feel free to develop it any further ;)

Cena is becoming repetitive about the **Beat-the-Clock** incident, because he's persuaded that his biggest mistake with Wade started there. It's turning into an obsession for him.

**·..·**

**Rebelwilla: **

Wade's **ears** turning red in a natural body reaction that the wrestler (Stuart) has if he feels genuinely amused. It could be provoked if the wrestler controls his body well enough, but it would be pointless for him to waste both focus and energy to do so, with maybe just 0.5% of the public who would notice it. On wade-barrett . com forum, there's an article about it _"__**A physical sign from Wade to "read" ;-) **__"_ where everything is explained, with even screen-shots examples.

**·..·**

**Failed to De-anon:**

Thank you very much for your kind words. :)

It's true that Cena is going to slowly change his point of view on Wade ;)

**·..·**

**Roronoa Minamino:**

Thank you very much :)

I'm glad that the mixture of drama and humor worked well apparently. Even if I never intended to put humor into this story when I first started to write it ;)

**·..·**

**xOrtrielxInxMyxHeartx:**

Happy? ;)

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Okie, it's quite late now (04:11). I'll post this online and then: rrrrrrrrrrrr...zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz... |-)

Hugs and read YOU soon :)

::Roselyne::


	8. Ch 7: There's no Smoke without a Fire

_Warning:_ Before you proceed, just keep in mind that **English ****is ****NOT**** my**** mother ****language**. So there will certainly be mistakes in this text. Yet, I'm eager to improve, so if you see some corrections to make, don't hesitate to contact me :-)

_Background__ Music:_ As the atmosphere from a music can influence our mood and the way we write, here's the songs that were playing in loops while I was writing this: **Submersed:**** "We**** all**** make ****mistakes"**; **Ryan ****Star****:**** "Start ****a**** Fire"** (just in case you want to immerse yourself in the same atmosphere while reading ;) )

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**NEVER GOT A CHANCE**

_**Chapter 7 - There's no Smoke without a Fire.**_

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_'Oh God… What have I done to offend Thee?'_

Cena felt his world spinning and paled considerably. Out of every single person in the WWE who called the hospital for Wade and heard that his 'boyfriend' was by his side, it had to be Vince! The big boss was going to have a fit when he would hear Wade's _boyfriend_ voice! Cena secretly hoped it would be a stiiiriiiking fit, leading to a massive heart attack.

He saw that the nurse became alarmed and decided to do what he was best at: total improvisation. He didn't even have to think of an explanation, the words came out of his throat naturally.

"He didn't know...", he whispered with a worried and sad look on his face. "That's our boss. We could both lose our job if he found out". He looked mortified, but he was dancing inside when he saw her eyes widening. She was going where he wanted. Living in a state not exactly tolerant to fags could make her think that she had made a big mistake by giving away this _boyfriend_ information. A _very_ big mistake. She looked despaired and guilty. She obviously didn't have the slightest idea how to correct her _mistake_. "I'm so sorry... I didn't mean-".

He interrupted her with an unease smile and a slight frown. "It's okay. I'm going to try something... I just hope it'll work...". And he took the phone she was extremely relieved to give him. Cena never liked to be such a manipulative bastard, but in times like these, unearthing this talent of him could be a matter of life and death. Literally.

"Vinny, heeey!", he started directly. A large smile appeared on his face when he heard his boss almost choking when the old man realized who was the owner of that male voice.

"CENA?", he managed to shout. "What the hell is-"

"No, don't worry about this boyfriend stuff", John interrupted him with an amused tone. "It's just a confusion. The nurse wrongly understood something I said earlier". Oddly, it was the total truth. The absolute truth. But the nurse was persuaded otherwise, and smiled to him in an encouraging way. "C'mon, Vinny. Me and Barrett? Naaaaaah...". He had managed to add some specific 'color' to his phrase. The same disdain tone a republican would have once said _'What?__ A__ black__ president__ for __the__ United__ State__ of__ America?__ Naaaaaah...!'_

"Look Cena", Vince started a little bit more composed. "As long as the fans know nothing, I don't care - and I don't _want_ to know - who's fucking who in the company". Cena's complexion went from deadly pale to bright red as he briefly pictured he and Wade together in a quite non-PG situation, and it took all he had not to violently throw the phone and running away, screaming insanely until he had no voice left from his throat _(but plenty in his head)_.

"What I do care about, is two things", Vince went on in a low and growling voice. "One, we didn't know where you were. You left the arena abruptly, and warned no one of your destination. Plus your cell-phone has been off for hours! Do you realize everybody was freaking out here? We even called the Police!".

John had to fight a bubble of acidity in his stomach. He didn't know what information or instructions the cops had received, but they would be looking in hospitals in first place. And Vinny had probably given them the description and license plate of his rental car.

John tried to calm his own voice. "I had to, Vince. I had to switch off my phone once I was in the hospital. Call back the cops! I was going to call you as soon as I had news from Wade! I swear!"

"... Which leads me to the second thing that annoys me", Vince went on. "Among any wrestler... no, any WWE _workers_, you are the last person to be expected around Barrett! Are you a FUCKING IDIOT?". He was screaming now. Cena could easily imagine his purple face complexion and the pulsing veins on his neck and forehead. With a bit of chance maybe that beloved heart attack wasn't very far. "The place where you should be, is home! You should get some rest, and wait for Wade's news while our lawyers are preparing everything. Actually, you do not talk to anybody, you shut that big mouth of yours, and you LEAVE that place!"

Cena understood why Vince was both angry and scared. His mind was probably reliving the Owen Hart incident, and he knew that the Press wouldn't be long before suspecting that the whole beating-with-a-chair thing was not scripted. Soon or later, _someone_ in the company would let some words slip by, and people from the media would spread in the whole city like a cockroach invasion.

And the first place they would be looking at, would be hospitals. Perhaps some paparazzi had written down the license plates of the WWE crews and superstars and would start comparing with what they'd find in the different hospital parking lots.

Cena tried to push his paranoia away. He was living and breathing WWE, so it was normal that after awhile he could think that everybody knew about WWE as well. But the way this nurse, Carla, was reacting, was teaching him something new: not everyone was interested in wrestling. So maybe there wouldn't be a lot of people from the media searching for Wade's whereabouts. But by morning, when the words would spread that - perhaps - an athlete from a world wrestling show had been almost killed in a televised match, there the whole media would jump on the case, and people who didn't know the slightest thing about wrestling, would suddenly pretend to be an expert and would be quick to judge.

"I won't leave, Vince", Cena softly replied. "I need to know, do you understand? I need to know if he's gonna make it. I owe him that, and-".

"You owe him shit! I don't care about your stupid code of honor!", Vince interrupted him. "This goes beyond you and him. The whole WWE could suffer from this. So I'm not _asking_, Cena. I'm ORDERING YOU to leave that place and go home RIGHT NOW! And you don't talk to ANYBODY. The Company lawyers will contact you later tomorrow to discuss about our next moves."

"Vince, I'm STAYING!", Cena's voice echoed in the corridor, accentuating the dramatic effect, and making the nurse startle on her chair. He lowered his voice a little, "At least, until the operation is done and I know more about his state. Plus let me remind you that I've taken a severe beating as well!". Much to remind Vince of the dangers his Golden Boy was facing, not only on a reputation level, but also on health level.

"As soon as I know more about _him_, I'll ask for a personal check-up myself", he went on. "You don't want me traveling with a broken rib, or a potential aneurysm, heh?".

He mentally counted the seconds of silence on the other line, collecting them like so many champion belts. He also saw the concern look on the nurse's face who was now examining him from behind her desk, searching for some injury signs she hadn't tried to see earlier. He lifted his hand in a reassuring gesture. On the other side of the phone conversation, he heard Vince's exasperate sigh, and knew he was closer to victory.

"You do that", Vince started. "Then you take the first flight to Florida, you speak to no one, you go home and stay there until further notice. I don't want to see the company and everything I worked for all these past decades, going into ashes because of some relationship problem between two of my employees. You may be our #1, but no one is more important than the WWE, AM I CLEAR?"

"Yes…", John simply replied, too happy to have earned a few more minutes, or hours, to truly realize what Vince had really meant.

"And as soon as you get news from Barrett, you call me or Paul, ok?"

"Yes", John's voice was firmer now, even though he was dreading which kind of news he would have to bring to the old man. After some long seconds of silence, he finally realized that his boss had hung up without a word. This didn't bode well. But as long as he was allowed to stay here a little longer, he wouldn't complain. It would have been impossible for him to find rest at home, not knowing Wade's whereabouts.

Not knowing if he was a murderer, or just a particularly _tensed_ wrestler.

John just handed the phone back to Carla. She took it with care and put it back on the receiver. Only then, she spoke: "Did he buy it?". John frowned, having momentarily forgotten what she was speaking about, before it clicked in his mind.

"Uh… yeah…", he started, unsure. "I mean, I hope. I don't know actually…", he added, more for himself, but realizing quickly that the guilt Carla would feel was a guarantee she'd be there in case he needed help in a near future… in order to redeem herself.

_'Did__ Vince __really __buy __it?'_, Cena wondered, before he suddenly remembered that_ 'relationship __problem __between__ two __of__ my__ employees'_. Something he hadn't denied or fought against. If Vince had some suspicions, his lack of reaction had probably fed them to a whole new level.

Cena started walking towards the operating room again, not paying attention to Carla's intense gaze as the nurse was still trying to check the extension of his injuries from behind her desk. He knew that his morose attitude would probably add some more guilt to the Latino woman, but something else was nudging his mind. Vince obviously had some suspicions about Wade and him in a _'relationship'_. The simple mention of that word in his head was automatically bringing some quite graphic images in his mind, making him feel a bit nauseous, unless it was from a slight concussion he may have gotten in their previous match. But what had originally created these suspicions? As he and Wade had apparently been fighting verbally or physically against each other from beginning to end, where did Vince see anything that would make him imagine otherwise?

And as he came into view with the nightmarish red light above the surgery door, a color so close to RAW spotlights, some details popped up into his mind. Through their "game", they had displayed some kind of weird chemistry, but a chemistry anyway. Their sometimes physical closeness and innuendos on the ring or during their video segments had probably been unnoticed by most of the WWE Universe, especially for the younger ones. But for someone like Vince, professional paranoid, all these details had probably set off so many alarms in his mind.

And as Cena sat one more time on his uncomfortable bench in front of the operation room, other memories came back. When the NEXUS had invaded RAW, Barrett had been most of the time particularly brutal with him. But the moment John had joined the group, the Brit had considerably softened with him. Cena focused on what could have triggered Vince's mind and came out with a few crystal clear memories: Wade patting on his shoulders, or passing a comforting arm around him, sometimes brushing his neck absentmindedly with his thumb; Wade pushing the referee shirt against John's chest and keeping his hand in place even after John had inadvertently interlaced some fingers with his while trying to keep the shirt from falling on the floor; Wade passing a hand in the back of John's neck and pulling him almost against him on the ring in order to whisper in his ear a few instructions for the next match.

Those were incidents you could quickly forget, or natural behavior you never gave a second thought to. But Vince had probably stored each and every one of them in specific areas of his brain, taking them all out to make some kind of ugly puzzle.

Cena shuddered. And he wasn't sure it was because of the returning cold - something he had completely forgotten to tell Carla. His mind went back to Vince. Perhaps the COO wasn't the only one who got the wrong idea while observing them. Maybe other WWE talents had perceived _differently_ their game and chemistry. Only God knew how many people inside WWE would shout "Of course! We KNEW it!", if that crazy rumor was going to spread. And for Vince, the coup de grace was Carla. Cena had probably let something too specific slip by for the nurse to think of them as lovers. Vince would think that there's no smoke without a fire. Cena's only asset was that he had actually never said out loud that he was Wade Barrett's boyfriend. He could always cross back the bridge and withdraw when charged.

But John knew also how fast a rumor could grow, and how difficult it was to remove it later from people's mind. By the time he would have the occasion to deny anything regarding a relationship with Barrett, another rumor would have come to life: some of his colleagues would start wondering if the beating-to-death with a chair was due to some problem in their private relationship. Soon, they would start wondering if this or that bruise on Wade earlier was really due to some minor incident during a house show fight, or due to some domestic abuses from Cena.

John passed a trembling hand on his face. In his exhaustion state, his paranoia was kicking in. But you couldn't remain the WWE #1 for so many years without becoming too perfectionist and a bit paranoid. Anyway, after tonight, maybe he wouldn't remain #1 much longer. Part of Vince's actual plan probably involved to keep him away for awhile and claim to the WWE Universe that he had been injured in his match against Barrett, and if the Brit didn't make it: that the leader of the Cenation was undergoing an anger management therapy. And while he was away, somebody else would become WWE's new top face. Vince and Creative had certainly a plan B up their sleeves. Probably since the very moment he had become WWE's Golden Boy. John wondered who his replacement would be. Rey? JoMo? Randy?

Randy's mention in his mind automatically brought back the voice in his head.

_'Bravo,__ Johnny!__ Splendid.____ Wade is probably breathing his last ones on the other side of the door, but don't bother. Keep worrying about _your ___career, and about how people will look at _you___. But whoever comes #1, you can still go to him with a chair for a … nice talk. Of course, if you killed Wade, getting your throne back will be the least of your concerns: maybe WWE security will receive the instruction to keep you out of the building, at any cost'_.

John tried to kick that voice away. He hated when he didn't look like the nice guy everybody expected him to be. Even in his own head. That little pernicious voice kept pointing to every dark and ugly sides of him. He didn't know how Randy was dealing with his own inner voices, but clearly himself was not enjoying it.

But then, he remembered Wade's empty eyes as the Brit was staring at him from the floor of the ramp, totally inert, blood running from his nose. Oh, he had already stopped reacting almost a minute earlier, but that hadn't stopped Cena from going on with the chair-beating. He realized now that had he had a knife instead of a chair at that moment, he would have probably reacted no differently, and would have stabbed Wade repetitively, exploding the PG label, and sending a whole generation of kids through intense therapy.

No, his inners voices were pointing out the truth he kept denying: "Mister nice guy has gone on holiday. Please live a message after Wade Barrett's flat-line _**Beeeeeeeeeeep**_."

Cena passed a hand on his face and closed his eyes, breathing deeply, trying to push away all those dark thoughts and focus on here and now. But when he opened his eyes again and looked at his hand, he saw it shaking, but couldn't decide if it was due to the adrenalin from the memory of the beating, or his nerves breaking down in front of the atrocity he had accomplished.

What horrified him the most was not the memory of Wade lying lifelessly on the ramp, but the mixture of joy coursing through his veins at the memory of the chair-beating, and the regret for all the other death-scenarios he could have applied. It was like part of him was sad he hadn't taken one of his Top 3 scenarios to finish the Brit.

_'Sure,__ Johnny'_, the voice in his head started with a amused tone, _'let's face it: an STF mixed to an Open Window is perhaps not as spectacular as a chair beating, but had you applied these on Wade while on the ramp, all the kids around would have been able to admire how a human skin can magically change color from flesh to ashen blue. And I'm sure the kids who'd have been close to you - those who would usually extend their hands in hope to touch their hero - would have perfectly heard the particular breaking sound coming from Wade's neck at apotheosis. But don't worry, they wouldn't start imitating that at school - according to the fact that their therapists would ever let them return to school. You always tell them with that charming smile of yours that they shouldn't imitate your moves, because you are a _pro_. Because you _control_ yourself…'_

"Shut up!", John moaned in displeasure, trying to push that voice away. But as the air temperature suddenly dropped again, now other images invaded his mind. He saw himself immobilizing Wade with his classical STF move while the arm he had passed around Wade's throat was tightening, and tightening. He could almost feel the heat radiating from Wade's body underneath him as the man was struggling to free himself. He could almost feel Wade's pulse from the vein of his neck against the skin of his arms. A pulse that was becoming erratic as the youth's struggles were reducing. He could almost feel the pain provoked by Wade's nails digging into the flesh of his arms, in an attempt to free himself or at least to gain some air. He could almost feel the moisture from Wade's hair against his cheek as he applied the maximum strength on his STF in order to put Wade's body through the maximum tension, feeling a scream building into Wade's lungs but never managing to be released more than as a weak whimper.

And he felt great…!

When he realized with horror where his mind was taking him again, he forced himself to remember that fatal day of May. The memory of Wade's smile, his radiant face and shining eyes, came in his thoughts with the same impact as a stone thrown in a quite lake, and destroyed the perfect reflection of rage on its surface.

"I… I need help…"

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**TO BE CONTINUED.**

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Here it is! A new chapter! ;) I know, it took me a lot of time, but the worst is that it was 97% done one month ago. I just couldn't find the time to make the last adjustments/corrections :/

Thank you all for your patience, for not sending a hired killer after me (because, to be perfectly quite honest, this would make updates a bit more difficult, naw mean? ;) ). And thanks to **WWE-Slash-Luvee,**** Rebelwilla,**** Your**** End ****Of**** Days,**** Nefra,**** Roronoa**** Minamino** and **WebbiTheBroski12** for taking the time to leave a review, comment, questions, etc… :) As much as you love reading my stories, I love reading your point of view and your questions :) Thank you all for your nice comments ^_^

**·..·**

And now, the answers:

**Wade's ****ears ****turning ****red**: I can't leave a direct link with _fanfiction . net_, but if you go to _wade-barrett . com_ website and go into the forum, search for the _"__**A**__** physical **__**sign**__** from **__**Wade **__**to**__** "read" **__**;-)**__"_ topic. Everything is explained there with pictures ;)

**Nefra:** Merci pour les corrections. J'ai fais les changements nécessaires. Miciiiii ;)

**Old**** Nexus**** / ****Wade ****fanfics**: I receive the same kind of questions about the comics I do. I don't have a lot of time to write and draw, so I prefer to write about the period of time and WWE characters which inspire me. And as you could already see in the comics: **Heath**** Slater** is going to take more and more importance (he'll have his part in this one, but he'll be more present in other fics).

**·..·**

That's all for now, I know that you must be biting your keyboard with rage as you know nothing more about Wade's whereabouts from what you already knew (not) in preview chapters. Be patient, Cena must make his own journey before facing the consequences of his actions. Good, or bad consequences? Stay tuned to this story to find out! ;)

**·..·**

Almost 2am, I'm going to sleep now, I have an intense training tomorrow morning.

Good night you all! ;)

*hugs*

::Roselyne::


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